Breach
by Ralenore
Summary: It was a breach of promise, a violation of unspoken obligations. So if hell was the price, she'd pay it, because some things were never meant to be broken. Or were they?
1. Accidents and Idiots

_breach_, noun:

1: infraction or violation of a law, obligation, tie, or standard;

2: a broken, ruptured, or torn condition;

3: a break in accustomed or familiar relations

* * *

"Do you like him?"

Rukia spewed.

Green tea dribbled down her chin as she looked up, embarrassed, wet, and disconcerted in the face of an awkward question made even more awkward thanks to her spectacular show of reaction. Despite projecting her drink across the table she still managed to miss Kiyone—the blonde ducked, and she sprayed the old man behind her instead.

He turned, dribbling wet, fixing her with a glare venomous enough to kill a king cobra.

Rukia nearly died.

"I am so sorry!" she gasped, jumping up and attacking the man with a fantastic wad of napkins. "I didn't mean to—I am so, so sorry!"

But he would have none of it. He shoved the napkins at her like toilet paper and snarled, "_Noble_ behavior, eh, Kuchiki Rukia?"

She froze, distantly aware that the teahouse had gone quiet enough to hear the muted drumroll of rain above. He called her out as a Kuchiki—_Rukia_ Kuchiki, sister to the head of the highest noble family in the land. If there was one rule of nobility, it was to cultivate elegance and propriety in all manner of civilized behavior. She'd effectively broken that rule. Spat on it, really.

Nii-sama was _so_ going to have her head.

"I am so sorry sir—"

"_Get out of my sight!_"

She fled to her seat, shrinking behind Kiyone as the man slapped down a few bills and left. All around her people stared, their expressions ranging from sympathy to outright amusement.

A chopstick clattered to the floor.

"What are you all looking at?" Kiyone snarled, breaking the silence with a sound slap to the table. "Get back to your food!"

Everyone obeyed instantly. The noise level returned to full blast as people continued eating and drinking like nothing happened, except for the occasional peek in Rukia's direction. Rukia, on the other hand, buried her face in her hands and moaned.

Her day was not going according to plan.

According to plan, she'd polish up the last of her reports and organize the month's files for her furloughed captain. She'd follow that up with a nice dinner with Kiyone, then spend the rest of her day home enjoying a well-earned soak. She'd put on some music, put up her feet, and while the evening away.

But that morning she'd been informed of an important dinner with a neighboring noble, and on top of that, her bath was going through repairs. Her brother had given her permission to use his, but she'd respectfully declined, certain that in twenty-four hours she wouldn't dirty herself enough to need anything more than a quick shower at division lodgings.

Now it seemed fate was against her. For one, the weather was doing its torrential best to thwart her efforts to get home in a neat and orderly fashion. It would be pointless to wash up at her division, then trek through the downpour back to the Kuchiki estate, where her brother would undoubtedly intercept her and have a word about _containing her drink_…

Rukia groaned. "I am so dead."

"Don't worry about it," Kiyone placated, discreetly passing a napkin over the table. "Or maybe I shouldn't have ducked? But seriously, I ask you to spill a secret and you spill your drink instead." She broke into a smile. "I'm taking that as a yes, by the way, and don't try to hide it because I know that reaction had to mean something."

"It means I felt sick just thinking about it. They are my friends, Kiyone—nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh?" Her grin widened. "Then you're missing out. You're around guys all the time, but they might as well be a part of the scenery, like cabbages at the supermarket. Or don't you like cabbages?"

"I prefer muffins," she replied dryly.

Kiyone rolled her eyes. "Now you're just thinking of tomorrow's breakfast."

"Of course. Besides, it's not like you miss anything if you don't even know what it is you are missing."

"But you do know what you're missing," Kiyone protested. "You've got this big, gaping hole in your life that can only be filled with that one special somebody, and since you're such a soft-hearted romantic you know exactly what I'm talking about and now the only question is _who_. But you're just too stubborn to admit anything."

"Touché." Rukia sipped her tea.

Kiyone slumped. "Come on, Rukia! Even your dead fish of a brother married for love, and if he can do it, anyone can." She paused. "Well, I guess there are exceptions. Kotsubaki may not be a fish or dead, but I think _I'd_ die if I ever met a girl in love with him. That idiot couldn't get two pigeons together if he tried."

Rukia couldn't help but smile.

Despite Kiyone's provocations, there _had_ been a time in her life when she'd devoted undue attention to a man who, despite his teasing and playful rebuffing, was several decades her senior and already married to the woman he loved. It took his death—in her arms, by her own blade—to prove that feelings born of adoration were unwieldy in the hands of a shinigami whose sole purpose was to protect the living and purify the dead.

That didn't mean she didn't appreciate the various friendships she'd developed, or that she disliked the idea of love. It didn't mean she wanted to be single for the rest of her afterlife. But to invite anything more than friendship would be asking for trouble, and frankly, babysitting those idiots was enough trouble as it was. As a shinigami her duty was duty itself, and like her respected brother she would commit herself to that ideal.

_Sympathy, friendship, love…such feelings aren't necessary for shinigami_.

In her mind's eye, Kaien smiled.

Rukia cringed.

"But you're not an exception!" Kiyone continued, banging the table and jolting Rukia back to reality. "You're a lovely young lady who just needs a little push, and that's where I come in. I'm a wonderful matchmaker, you know. I just need to hear the word and _voila_, I'll work my magic." She leaned in. "So which is it? Fiery red…or _tawny orange_!"

Rukia opened her mouth to blast the blonde with a devastating retort when a hurricane of reiatsu crashed onto the table, upsetting their teacups and startling nearby diners. Neither of the girls flinched.

"Kotsubaki!" Kiyone barked. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The other third seat sat on the table like a meditating Buddha, arms crossed and expression stern—as stern as Kotsubaki could look when picking a fight with Kiyone. He narrowed his eyes and barked, "Skipping work again, eh, little monkey?"

"I'm not!" she screeched indignantly, "I finished mine! You're the one who didn't finish yours!"

"We have the same work, monkey!"

Two taller men followed, though they took the liberty of standing beside the table instead of on top of it.

"Ichigo!" Rukia exclaimed, craning her neck to look up at the boy. "You're in Soul Society?"

"Yeah," he replied, rubbing a hand through his soaked hair. Renji stood beside him, his usually perky ponytail another sopping testament to the rain. "School's off, so I thought I'd visit," Ichigo continued. "I ran into Renji while I was looking for you, and Kotsubaki happened to be looking for Kiyone, so I guess it all worked out."

Kiyone glared at them. "You're breaking up our tea party?"

"Not when there's no party," Renji countered. "You two are having tea. We three will be having sake. That's more the party."

She scowled. "That's not a party, that's a gang of drunken idiots."

"You shouldn't be talking," he shot back. "At least I don't show up to work drunk."

"Because Kuchiki-taichou would whip your ass!"

"I have an important dinner tonight," Rukia interrupted before the argument turned to fisticuffs. She set down some money as she rose. "One hour. That means no horseplay, no fooling around, no nothing—and definitely no sake. 'Presentable' to Kuchiki standards means I can't be falling down drunk."

Renji looked crestfallen. Kiyone, on the other hand, turned on her, expression fierce. "You're ditching?"

Rukia glanced at the upset cups and swollen rice crackers as Kiyone followed her gaze. Point taken. "We could hang out tomorrow…" Rukia began. At the blonde's prompting glare she added, "Over muffins?"

Kiyone laughed. "Over muffins."

It wasn't all that far to the residential districts, so Rukia led the way through the washed out streets as Ichigo and Renji followed. They turned onto a shadowy path where the ground was slick with excess rainwater. This particular area was infamous for sending more than a few broken limbs to 4th Division, so being the kind and considerate friend she was, she decided to warn them. (Or perhaps she didn't want to deal with said broken limbs—those two were enough trouble as it was.)

"Careful, it's slippery!" she called.

To prove her point, Renji slipped. Or at least she thought it was Renji. All she knew was that one second she was running down one rain plastered street at the heart of Seireitei, and the next she was flying face first into the mud with two full grown men on top of her.

It was hard to tell if it was karma or stupidity.

…Probably both.

Rukia jumped up sputtering. Her shihakusho was drenched. Her face was masked in mud. She frantically wiped the soil from her eyes as she whirled on the heap of idiot at her feet. "You!" she shouted. "What part of _dirty me and die_ did you not understand?"

"It wasn't me!" they chimed before glaring at one another.

"Look at his shihakusho! It's clean because he used us as a doormat!"

"Idiot, you call this clean? Go look at a mirror!"

Rukia punched them both. "You call yourselves shinigami but you can't keep your footing on the damn street? Now look at what you've done. I can't go to dinner like this."

With the meeting an hour away and the rain pounding mercilessly, she didn't have much choice. Dangerously annoyed, she attempted a futile brush-off of her shihakusho and sent them a look that would have killed any lesser shinigami.

"I will see you later," she said, flashing off toward the Kuchiki estate.

* * *

Byakuya sighed.

It was the end of a day of endless meetings for the head of the Kuchiki house, but it felt far from over. That morning he'd been informed of a neighboring noble who wanted to meet over dinner. Byakuya was not looking forward to the prospect of entertaining guests. After having spent the entire day behind closed doors discussing everything from family issues at home to politics with the bureaucracy that was Soul Society, the last thing he wanted was for additional meetings to extend into the night. But so it would be; there was no point in wishing otherwise. He arrived at the main house as the sun broke through the clouds, walking toward his quarters and teasing the kenseikan out of his hair as his mind played over the meeting.

The family meeting, to be specific. Most Gotei 13 meetings weren't interesting enough to dwell on at later dates, but some of the family ones could be serious food for thought. Today's meeting in particular. He shouldn't have been surprised, given his position as head. The elders had been itching nervously ever since the three captains defected from their posts, and though there was little reason for the traitors to target him outside the fact that he was a captain, they wanted absolute assurance it would not be the end of the family line.

Personally Byakuya thought this was a bit backward. Who would be worrying about family lines if there was no Soul Society left to begin with?

But there was no point in arguing. It was his duty to produce an heir, and he knew he wouldn't marry for love this time around. It was better that way. Giving in to needless emotions was proof of an inability to control them, and if there was one thing Byakuya excelled at, it was control.

…That, and the feel of Hisana's cold, limp hand would be engraved in his memory forever.

Byakuya closed his eyes. It would be right back to work the next morning, so he resigned himself to at least try to enjoy his one night back home. With marriage hanging over his head like a prison sentence he opened the door, wondering how long he could stall before the family forced the issue. He stepped inside and set his kenseikan on the counter when something caught his eye and he looked up.

His heart stopped.

She was on the edge of his bath, her back toward him, poised delicately on the ledge as she ran slim white fingers through wet raven locks. Her skin glowed under the gold evening light, beaded with dew-like rivulets that ran down the perfect crescents of her shoulder blades, the small of her back, over the curve of her hips down to her backside.

Whatever thoughts he'd had dissipated like water on a steam boiler. The resemblance was shocking. For a moment Byakuya stared, too stunned to look away.

Had he been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he failed to sense her reiatsu?

But now he hesitated. He'd slid open the door and she hadn't heard, but who was to say she wouldn't hear it close? Could he shunpo out in hopes that she wouldn't notice the burst of his reiatsu? Or should he back out and leave the door quietly untouched?

His heart raced and his fingers worried the door as he debated his choice. It was unacceptable to leave the door open. While he appreciated the virtues of his hired help, he wasn't sure that any man (other than himself, of course) could stand up to the temptation of a beautiful young woman caressing herself in his bath. And as much as he hated to admit, she _was_ beautiful. It didn't help that she looked so much like a woman he probably shouldn't be comparing her to, a woman who'd had the same moon-kissed skin, the same slight frame, the same warm, delicate curves that trembled ever so slightly when—

_Badtrainofthought_.

Byakuya swallowed.

This was his sister. It was a serious breach of conduct to be watching her like this, and it disgusted him that he'd been virtually staring now with the sick interest of a voyeur. But before he could even consider his next move, she stood up. Instinctively he froze, watching with rising panic as she propped her arms back and gave a catlike stretch, flashing him way too much thigh to even pretend to retain any last shred of decency.

It was too much. He stepped back to leave, door open or otherwise, but in his haste to put some distance between them he slammed the scabbard of his zanpakutou against the door with a reverberating _crack_.

He froze.

Because at that moment, Rukia turned and gasped.

"_Nii-sama!_"


	2. The Dinner

_Can I ask you a question, please_

_promise you won't laugh at me_

_I'm at sea, I'm standing here_

_Afraid I'll be betrayed_

* * *

Rukia gaped.

It was a good thing she'd picked out a nice kimono for dinner that night instead of her usual outfit, because her mirror was presenting her with quite the Kuchiki abomination. There was mud on her face, in her hair, down her front and over her entire backside. Not only that, but the grime had soaked in and was now sticking to her skin, so that she not only looked like something dragged in straight from the streets of Rukongai but felt like it as well.

She was cold, gross, and definitely not presentable. Which meant she would have to take advantage of that offer, whether she wanted to or not.

After working up the nerve to approach his quarters, she stood outside the door, wondering how awkward it would be if he just so happened to be in. She'd never had the courage to seek him out in his own bedroom, much less ask to use it, so at first she wasn't sure how to tackle the situation.

She took a deep breath and yelled, "Nii-sama!"

No response.

Now she felt silly. It wasn't like Byakuya was going to go around disguising his spirit pressure in his own bedroom. She was just being paranoid…but there was nothing wrong with being careful, she told herself. It would've been even sillier if she'd barged in and found him undressing or something.

Then again, she could have just knocked…

She slid the door open tentatively, feeling invasive of his personal space even with his permission. On the far side of the room stood a low table and a floor lamp, with shelves lining the wall by the window and his closet doors to the right. To the left was the door to his bathroom. She tiptoed in, half expecting him to materialize out of nowhere and reprimand her not only for entering his room (despite his permission), but also for spraying a man with a mouthful of tea in public. She was just waiting for _that_ to reach his ears…

His bathroom was modest like the rest of the mansion, but what surprised her was the atmosphere. There were plants everywhere, as if it were a part of the gardens outside and not enclosed between four walls. It reminded her of the hot springs scattered around Seireitei, except with the benefit of not having the general public frocking its grounds and entrances. The bath was already filled and hot, so she piled her clothes in the corner and stepped into the shower, adjusting the showerhead to suit her miniscule height. The heat was soothing on her fraught nerves and within minutes she forgot where she was, idling under the warm spray as she was consumed by her thoughts.

Ichigo. Renji. If it weren't for them, she wouldn't be in this mess. Sure, she had time to make it to dinner, but dressing would take the better part of half an hour even with an extra set of hands. She'd much rather hang with them, but tonight she would be stuck at home entertaining unwelcome guests while they went having fun without her. At least she'd been able to stop for tea with Kiyone, but even so, her day had not gone well.

Rukia shut the tap and grabbed her towel before pausing. She wanted to relax in the bath, but she stayed in the shower longer than she'd anticipated. She should probably go get dressed, but the steaming water looked oh-so-inviting, and no bath was complete without a nice relaxing soak…

Really, she stood no chance. A quick dip wouldn't hurt…

She left the towel on the counter and eased herself into the water. _Ohh, yes_. Her knotted muscles began to loosen, a clear indication that she needed to unwind more often or possibly adjust her horrible posture at work. She hadn't had a proper soak since her bathroom had gone into repair, and while the division barracks were decent, they were wanting when compared with home. Especially this place. It was so relaxing that Rukia nearly dozed off twice in the tub—she felt like she really _was_ at a hot spring. She'd have to grow a green thumb after the pipes were fixed…and…

Pipes. Apparently her leaky tub wasn't the only thing in need of plumbing. Her classmates in the human world had asked her the same question and she'd given them the same response—a look of shock, some airborne beverage, and an avidly assured _no_—that they really were friends and nothing more. It was just plain weird that so many people seemed to think otherwise. Whatever feelings she had for the boy, none of them amounted to anything more than friendship. Romance, and everything around that, was simply not her thing.

But Rukia wasn't ignorant. She had a sneaking suspicion that the blonde's pushing her to choose someone had a rather close connection with the words _Kotsubaki_ and _betting_, and while that was all in good fun, she just wasn't interested at the present time. There were far more important things to attend to, like, say, Aizen threatening to destroy Soul Society as they knew it, and Rukia thought such selfish ambitions best put on hold. Unfortunately Kiyone also had the persistence of a cockroach, but that didn't mean she wouldn't do everything in her power to—

_Bang!_

Rukia spun around, clasping her arms over her breasts as she twisted sharp toward the door.

"_Nii-sama!_"

This man—the man she respected more than anyone—was standing there in the bathroom with her, looking for all the world like he'd had an accidental run-in with Sode no Shirayuki and wanted to melt off the face of Soul Society but was still stuck frozen to the spot. For the second time that day Rukia found herself embarrassed, wet, and disconcerted with an audience. Her arms were pressed over her breasts and her thighs clenched to preserve her modesty, but it didn't do anything to hide the fact that she was standing buck naked before her esteemed adoptive brother.

Whose eyes ran over her entire body before he quickly averted his gaze.

"You are in my bath," he noted, for lack of anything else to say.

"I am," she replied, for lack of anything else to say.

Shit. Had she stolen _his_ bath?

Worse, her towel was no longer on the towel bar beside her. She'd left it on the counter while debating a soak, where it presently remained beside her frozen brother. If she wanted that towel, she'd have to reach out past him to get it…which would only end up exposing herself in the process.

That, or…

"Could you…pass me the towel please?" she asked, nodding toward the cotton cloth just as Byakuya turned.

He stopped.

He'd been about to leave, she realized, but now that she'd asked, he couldn't just ignore her.

He turned back around again.

Before Rukia could tell him _never mind_, he was picking up the fabric as if it was a dead rodent and holding it toward her mechanically, his face devoid of all life as he stared at an empty space somewhere near her ankle. She snapped it up instantly, fumbling with a stupid fold that wouldn't open fast enough as she shook out the fabric to shield herself. Once done, she opened her mouth to thank him—only to realize he was gone.

And he'd left the door open.

She stepped out to close it when she noticed a set of porcelain semi-tubes on the counter. She frowned, racking her brain to remember if they'd been there earlier. She was certain they hadn't. But he wouldn't have had time to take them out and put them there without noticing her unless…

Whatever. It wasn't important anyway. What _was_ important was that her delicious soak had been a bit too long because her fingers were beginning to prune, which meant she was late. Her dressing lady was going to be annoyed, and when the old lady was annoyed, Rukia was _always_ late. She pulled on a yukata before shunpoing to her room, hoping that the rest of the household was in a better mood than she was. She'd need it if she was going to be on time.

* * *

Byakuya walked out of his room, forgoing his shower in favor of a walk outside. His face remained impassive, and to anyone in the vicinity it would appear he was taking another contemplative stroll through his magnificent estate.

She hadn't even crossed his mind. In the years following his wife's death he'd wed himself to his work until he was all but consumed by it, trading whatever heart he might have had for one that loved law and duty above all else. After her adoption he'd been obligated to forge a real sibling relationship with her, but now that she worked at her own division, the times they saw each other were few and far between.

His pounding heart began to slow, but in the wake of returning to a normal state, he felt an unfamiliar weight in his chest. He wasn't sure what it was.

Irritation? Mortification? Nostalgia?

…Disappointment?

He frowned in disgust.

"Are you alright, Kuchiki-sama?"

Byakuya started. Getting caught unawares by two household members in the space of five minutes was not something to which the Kuchiki head needed bragging rights. He turned to note the serving girl beside him, but with a jolt he realized something else. She _noticed_ something. Was he acting unnatural? Frowning too much? Walking too fast?

Stuck with an inappropriate image in his head?

"Of course," he replied, sounding remarkably flat. His schooled expression betrayed no emotion. "Why do you ask?"

She waved a hand toward her face. "I think your nose is bleeding."

He stared at the girl as he lifted a hand to dab at his nose. Sure enough, a thin trickle of scarlet smudged across his knuckles. For a moment he stared at it before dropping his hand back to his side.

"Thank you."

He turned toward the nearest exit, self-consciously dabbing at his nose once more before stepping into the garden.

That was unexpected. The last nosebleed he'd had was back when a certain princess thought that the best way to convince him to play tag was to plant her foot in his face. That was a long time ago. He had no idea what caused it this time, but whatever it was was insignificant, so he pushed it to the back of his mind.

But unfortunately left at the forefront were not only the upcoming proposals but also the image of a very much naked Rukia, which was totally inappropriate considering their relationship. He thought of Hisana, of perhaps visiting her right then, but he had a feeling it wouldn't help _at all_.

It was wrong. He should have turned on his heel and left—flash stepped, walked, anything. The door didn't matter. Getting caught didn't matter. What disturbed him was that he'd stayed and watched.

But it was an accident, Byakuya reminded himself. In a year's time he would be married or dead—murdered by the family for failing to achieve the former—and any weird blips in his relationship with his sister would long be forgotten. It was sticking now because it only just happened.

His hair caught the early spring breeze and without thinking he reached up to adjust his kenseikan. It wasn't there. He blinked in confusion before it dawned that he'd left it in the bathroom before being paralyzed by a lovely, delicate form…

He didn't feel like going back to retrieve it.

* * *

By the time the old dressing lady had chastised Rukia for being late and then taken her sweet time getting Rukia into her kimono, she really was running late, which was almost certainly the old maid's intention. She shunpoed to the far wing and cracked open the door, hoping she could tiptoe in without anyone noticing her tardy entrance—

"You're late."

Her mouth fell open.

It wasn't any surprise that she was showing up late for her first meeting with the Taira. With the teahouse spiel and bath fiasco it had become increasingly apparent that what Rukia needed to do, Rukia wasn't going to get done, especially if it involved going anywhere on the proper watch. She expected to be scolded for her tardiness because she knew she deserved it.

But that wasn't the half of it.

At the other end of the room stood her brother, engaged in discussion with the man she assumed to be Taira. He was older and larger than Byakuya, bearded and greying with lines of stress on his squarish yellow face. Beside him was a withered old man whom she guessed was his advisor, Denbei. She'd heard him to be impatient and prejudiced toward those of impure blood, which was just swell given her own adopted status. Needless to say, the guy was ancient. Centuries of advising heads of house had made him a tad bit bitter, and given that he was over a thousand years old, it was safe to say he was a little old-fashioned as well. She'd heard plenty of stories about this old geezer, but it was her first time actually meeting the guy.

The guy she spewed on in the teahouse that very evening.

And, judging by his acerbic expression, it was clear he remembered her too.

…_Shit._

"Please be seated," said Fudo, Byakuya's own advisor, as he directed her toward her seat. Belatedly she realized she'd been standing there with her mouth open. She crossed the room on legs of jelly, praying she wouldn't be seated within ten feet of the man as he continued to glower.

As it turned out, her seat was directly across from him.

It could have been a good thing. Looking at it one way, it meant she wouldn't have to wait for Nii-sama to find out, which was good because she wasn't sure she'd be able to look at him now even if she wanted to. Looking at it another way, she wouldn't face him again, or anyone else for that matter. This guy would finish her off with his bare hands.

She bowed, glad that her coiffed hair fell to disguise the cringe that was growing bigger by the minute. Oh, how she wished one of Yachiru's secret trapdoors would open up and swallow her right about now…

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Taira said. "I've heard so much about you, Kuchiki Rukia."

Rukia couldn't help but wonder what _so much about you_ consisted of.

After having endured the finer points of epic embarrassment, dinner commenced without a hitch, although Rukia made a point to not make eye contact with anyone except Fudo who was too near-sighted to see beyond his bowl of rice anyway. No one seemed interested in talking to her either, but Rukia supposed that was a good thing. It was better to be forgotten than to have attention drawn unnecessarily.

Her lonely meal was dinner fit for a king. The table was loaded with everything from grilled jewfish with sesame and tamari to roast duck and udon, garnished with sweet sauces and steamed greens and a million pickled sides. Her company may have been less than desirable, but gorging herself on the many delicious offerings presented a suitable distraction.

She was careful with the tea though. God knew she didn't need another screw up in the Kuchiki hall to seal her fate, not with her target facing her dead on and Nii-sama right beside her.

"We have begun discussing potential marriages for our clan," Fudo began. This surprised Rukia. She didn't realize the family was pushing Nii-sama to remarry.

"It is difficult finding nubile noblewomen," Taira said, directing a casual glance toward Rukia as he spoke. "Many families have fallen, and with our dwindling population it only becomes more difficult. Although it is possible to intermarry with commoners—" At this, he nodded respectfully toward Byakuya, "it hardly seems wise, since they are not of blood, nor educated, and given great power might use their newfound influence for personal gain."

"Indeed," Denbei agreed. "Most are disrespectful, contemptible spirits who spit upon noble pride."

The silence that followed this little revelation was more awkward than those previous. Rukia stared blankly at a piece of tofu and wondered why she hadn't been taught any suicide techniques at the Shinou Academy because right now felt like a good time to use one.

"I am not sure you have met with some of the finer points of civility, even if it only be respectful distance," Byakuya said, and Rukia felt relieved that he seemed oblivious to the reference of her earlier mishap. "I doubt most would approach a noble with the intention of trampling his pride."

Rukia disagreed. She was certain that any "respectful distance" others gave had less to do with being a noble and more to do with the fact that he was Kuchiki Byakuya. _No one_ was going to stomp on his pride unless you were Ichigo or suicidally stupid, but Nii-sama had never been in a position to experience otherwise so she couldn't exactly blame him.

Denbei took this less kindly, unhappy that the Kuchiki head was so quick to disagree. "Oh," he muttered, feigning disinterest before adding, "Have you never been given a dirty look by one of common blood? Or, say…spat upon?" He looked straight at Rukia. "Because…_I_ have."

Rukia made a mental note to hang herself after dessert.

What, oh what had she done to deserve this? It was only a little tea, and…god, she wished she'd chosen fiery red or tawny orange just so that she wouldn't die a complete virgin—she hadn't even gotten her first kiss yet! And now, here she was, kissing virginity intact and already planning her own funeral.

But apparently Byakuya was unwilling to argue with a decrepit old man because the conversation was suddenly over. She peeked at him, wondering what prompted him to defend the common blood. He'd had reasonably decent experiences with commoners, having married one and adopted another, but there were many she knew he detested and since she was a noble now, offending her sensibilities shouldn't have been an issue. If her brother had a criticism to make, he was not one inclined to holding it back.

It struck her that he hadn't reprimanded her for being late. In present company that would have been inappropriate, but perhaps he was saving it for after they left?

But then, that would only bring up the subject of _why_ she'd been late, and she was certain that was a topic neither of them wanted to touch with a ten foot pole. But Rukia was beginning to be plagued by the idea that maybe he hadn't offered, and that her imagination had come up with it all on its own, and—

"You are very quiet," Taira said, snapping Rukia out of her thoughts. She looked up to see him watching her.

"Me?"

"Yes. You have not spoken since our introduction. Are you always so quiet, or does this conversation bother you?"

"No, I…" She swallowed. "I…felt it was not my place to interrupt."

"Well, what do you think?" Taira asked. "Since you are not a noble by birth, are commoners who assimilate any different from purebloods?"

Denbei grunted.

"Well…" she began, noticing that all eyes were on her except Nii-sama's, "I am a member of the Kuchiki family now. I don't think about what I used to be…just what I am, and what my duties are now. There is no point in thinking otherwise."

Taira nodded, pleased with her answer, and the conversation turned to other issues circulating around the aristocracy. Rukia finished her meal in silence. Various desserts were brought out to tempt her, and after a rather hellish day she decided to treat herself to a bowl of sweet bean oshiruko. Fudo excused himself early, and judging by the darkened windows night was falling fast.

"Before our evening comes to a close, I have a request I wanted to make," Taira said. "Forgive me if I sound imperious, but I humbly seek your permission to access the Kuchiki family's historical records."

The Kuchiki and the 6th Division were the keepers and recorders of the history of Soul Society, Rukia knew, but it wasn't often that someone came asking to look through it all. There were countless lifetimes, millennia of information contained in those tomes that most shinigami didn't care about. She wondered what piqued his interest.

So did Byakuya, it appeared, because he considered the man carefully before speaking.

"Why?"

Taira smiled. "I am undertaking a project that requires in-depth knowledge of Soul Society's history, but the information I am looking for is not open to the public, nor in any library." He tilted his head, leveling a look at Byakuya. "I was hoping the great Kuchiki house would be able to aid me in my search."

"I shall inform you that unless you carry a direct order from Central 46, I am not willing to grant access," Byakuya said flatly. "The records were placed under our watch and are not public domain. It surprises me that you even ask."

The older noble leaned back. "Well, I figured I would try," he muttered. "As I would expect of you…Kuchiki Byakuya."

Rukia frowned. He was expecting to be declined? Then why bother asking?

Taira rose. "Thank you for having us, and for the generous dinner. It was a feast."

"Not at all," Byakuya replied.

Taira glanced toward his advisor, then looked at Rukia.

_Crap_, she thought, panicking. _Is he going to tell Nii-sama about what happened earlier?_

Denbei nodded.

Taira gave her a tight smile. "You are a lovely young lady, Miss Kuchiki. I hope we can meet again under…perhaps more _favorable _circumstances."

Rukia blinked. At that point Byakuya stood up.

"As you seem to be leaving, allow me to escort you."

"Oh, we are on our way," Taira said. "There is no need for you to escort us out."

"The pleasure is mine," Byakuya replied.

Rukia knew this was all in good manners, as it was expected of a host to see their guests to the door, but Rukia thought there was something in her brother's tone that didn't match up with the politeness of his words. Nevertheless Taira was all smiles, matching Byakuya perfectly for politeness as they made it to the door, and soon Rukia was watching their backs as they disappeared into the darkness.

Suddenly, it was just Nii-sama and her.

He'd never been much of a conversationalist, to be sure, but since her near execution he'd been a bit more companionable, treating her like a sister at arm's length rather than a complete and total stranger. But tonight he hadn't spoken so much as a word to her. She sensed a coldness that was different from his usual distance, and after having spent the entire night by herself, she felt she was being given an unfair cold shoulder.

This was confirmed when he walked past her without a word.

"Nii-sama," she blurted.

He stopped, turning just slightly.

What should she say? Now that she had his attention, she found she didn't actually want it. She hadn't planned on speaking to him after what happened earlier. But something felt off between them—an awkward silence, instead of a comfortable one—and now he was waiting for her to say something while she stood there at a total loss for words. Should she apologize for the bath incident? Or pretend it never happened and bid him goodnight?

She studied what little she could see of his face, from the dark locks pulled into the elegant ivory hairpieces to a fine cheekbone and flawless jawline. From what she could see, there was nothing in his expression that encouraged or discouraged her from continuing.

"I'm sorry," she said, floundering for an excusable explanation. It was her instinctive reaction to defer to him with an apology, but now Rukia didn't know whether she was making amends for the bath incident or for calling his attention. "I thought…um…you said…"

Sadly it seemed to be moving toward the former.

Rukia cringed. "I didn't think you would—"

"It's nothing," Byakuya interrupted. Surprised, she looked up, irrationally hoping to gauge something from his face, but somewhere between her studying the floor and stammering for a response, he'd turned away again.

He was angry, she realized. But at whom? Was he angry that he'd walked into his quarters and found her indecent? Or was he angry at Taira for making a ludicrous request knowing he would be declined, thereby wasting the Kuchiki head's time? Rukia was almost certain it was her, because as cold as he'd acted toward Taira, that was the way he always was. Usually he would recognize her presence, using her name or nodding to her in acknowledgment. Usually he would look at her when she spoke, even if just for a moment.

Usually, he would reprimand her for being late.

She should not have taken the offer. Or, at the very least, she should have sought him out to confirm it. Because for some reason, it felt like the way he used to treat her—before her rescue at Soukyoku, before he treated her as his sister, before he ever acknowledged her as anything more than a hatstand in his own home.

And as she stood there in the open hall, she realized something else—that she didn't know whether she'd done the right thing to apologize, or if she'd pushed him farther away.

Her brother's departing back offered little answer.


	3. Second Encounters

_I must be dreaming, or_

_we're onto something_

_I must be dreaming for_

_I don't fall in love lawlessly_

* * *

Byakuya was having a rough night.

It was bad enough that he had a multitude of domestic and state affairs at hand, most of which had been induced that day and none of which had anything to do with the 6th. First he'd been given an ultimatum to search for a new partner. Then the Taira head showed up with a perverse interest in his family's records—to what end, Byakuya didn't know, but whatever it was he didn't like it. Third, he'd walked in on Rukia's bath. While this seemed laughably trivial in comparison to the other two, it was actually bothering him the most. The images were still fresh in his mind, and the more he tried to ban them from memory, the more they plagued him in kind.

More than anything, though, he could not stop thinking of Hisana.

He still blamed himself, after all these years. With his power he should have been able to prevent her death, but the only thing he'd been able to accomplish was keeping his promise to her, a promise to find the sister she'd abandoned and call her his own. When he found the girl, it startled him that two people could look so alike. That, coupled with the fact that she'd indirectly destroyed that which was dearest to him, resulted in his spending the next fifty years all but ignoring her, avoiding having to _look_ at her even when he was speaking to her. Within minutes she got the impression that he wanted nothing to do with her, and in a way, she was right. Yet even so, he'd never been able to hate the girl.

Maybe it was because there was some Hisana in her.

Maybe, it was because there _wasn't_.

Whatever the case, the girl was adopted into the prestigious Kuchiki clan, and within week one Rukia established herself as worlds different from her fragile sister. For that he was grateful, but it still bothered him enough that he continued to avoid her until it virtually became habit. It was only after she was nearly executed—threatened by his own right hand—that their relationship strangely began to change for the better.

Hisana would have been happy to know that their relationship was finally improving. But after seeing her in such intimacy, Byakuya wasn't sure their fragile rapport would last. Because here he was, avoiding her all over again—this time with real reason while Rukia herself seemed less than aware.

And now, to consider remarriage…

Byakuya swept back his bedcovering and stood up, tightening his sash as he padded onto a path he walked more often than he liked to admit. He continued until he reached the main hall, but before he crossed the threshold, a shadow stretching across the tatami caught his attention.

Someone was crouched in the doorway, appearing as nothing more than a faceless silhouette against the moonlight. Such a sight may have been alarming to one of his household staff, but Byakuya sensed the familiar reiatsu. It was Rukia. She was in a yukata and ready for bed, but instead of resting in her room, she was sitting with her knees drawn to her chest, her head leaning against the door frame beside her. Given the position of the moon in the sky, it was around two in the morning. What on earth was Rukia doing outside at two in the morning?

He stepped forward, but no sooner had he moved than Rukia jumped and nearly fell off the veranda.

"_Nii-sama!_"

Byakuya stilled.

There had always been something endearing about the way she used the term, the way it slipped out whenever she saw him. She'd exclaim "Nii-sama!" as he went about his business, disguising secret satisfaction behind a face of indifference. It happened at Soukyoku, when he saved her from the Bounts, when she woke up to him standing there after defeating Zommari Leroux not so long ago.

This time, it sounded different. She still said it the same way, but somehow it made him want to flinch…as if he was doing something wrong. The words were the same but the connotations had changed, even if Rukia didn't seem to notice. She just looked at him quizzically and asked, "What are you doing here?"

His trip to the shrine would have to wait.

Slowly Byakuya crossed the room and stood beside her, gazing into the canopy of bare branches above. Her gaze on him was intense, and Byakuya realized she was waiting for him to look at her, probably to answer her question. Instead he closed his eyes and inhaled the night air. "I was out for a nighttime walk."

She considered this, then nodded in fair acceptance.

"May I ask why you are outside at this hour," he asked.

She glanced out over the darkened courtyard, then lowered her gaze. "I couldn't sleep."

This sounded like an untruth, considering she was practically snoring when he happened upon her, but he said nothing.

"I would venture to guess that you couldn't either," she said quietly.

Byakuya didn't answer.

The night was cold enough that he could see steam rising from his breath, so that at this hour the courtyard was motionless except for their combined breathing. Rukia tried to stifle a yawn, and after some time Byakuya thought she'd fallen asleep until she murmured, "Do you think Taira will be back?"

Byakuya had, in fact, considered that same question. He was certain the other lord would return with his foolish request, and that once again he would leave empty-handed. But the only thing that came out was, "That is none of your concern."

A beat passed before Rukia whispered, "Are you angry with me?"

For a moment, Byakuya didn't answer. The truth was that he was bothered by many things. She may have been one of those things, but Byakuya couldn't find it within himself to sort out his own emotions. They were messy and managed to complicate even the simplest affairs, yet with discipline they could be suppressed by mind and reason. Yes, he was bothered. At what, he didn't know. But he didn't particularly care enough to figure out what it was; he would function on logic alone and let the discomfortable feelings pass. They always did eventually.

Ironically, though, it was probably this same line of reasoning that had gained him a reputation for being moody in the first place.

"No," he finally decided, feeling annoyed with his thoughts. "It is late. You should return to your room and rest."

Usually Rukia would honor his request, but she made no effort to get up. Byakuya stood there, uncertain. Clearly there had been some miscommunication for her to so blatantly ignore him. Perhaps she was bothered by his supposed anger the way he was bothered by his thoughts and was out here for that very reason?

He called her again and still she didn't move. It took him a moment to realize that in the time it had taken him to try and grasp his feelings, she'd fallen asleep.

Byakuya glanced at her. From where he was standing, he couldn't see beyond the raven hair of her bowed head contrasted with the white of her yukata. In the moonlight it looked ethereal, and as his eyes followed the fabric down he realized he could almost see down the front of her yukata.

He quickly looked away.

But he couldn't just leave, this time around. She was curled up outside against the door, and Kuchiki Byakuya was not a man to leave a girl in such an unsuitable position.

Slowly, Byakuya leaned down, gingerly slipping one arm behind Rukia's back and the other behind her knees. She was disturbingly light, easily small enough to be carried long distances without a sweat. Usually he was too busy dodging or taking a blow to think anything of it, but as he carried her inside, he felt all too _aware_. Her closed eyes. Her parted lips. Her weight against his, her head cradled gently against his chest. All those other times had been a rush, the contact fleeting in a hazardous, dizzying escape. This time the touch was lingering, comforting even. All he knew was that, as he looked at her in his arms, he was reminded that it had been half a century since he last looked down to see a face nestled so close to his heart.

Byakuya hastily shifted his gaze to the passing floor mats instead.

He reached her room and nudged the door open, careful not to bang her dangling feet against the door. Her futon was waiting with the quilt drawn back, so he laid her down and tucked her in. Her hair was in somewhat messy disarray from the trip indoors, so he brushed back the loose strands until they lay neater, framed around her face.

He'd affirmed many times that she resembled his late wife with her heart-shaped face and slender frame and satiny midnight-colored hair. But whenever he sat closer, it was the differences that stood out. They were subtle but distinct, like the way her jawline was more angled, her chin less pointed, the way her appearance looked hardier yet still so gracefully delicate. She looked—really, there was no other word to describe it—_lovely_ in such a relaxed natural state. Just as she looked lovely that evening, when he'd…

_Bad train of thought._

He'd been watching too long, he realized. Slowly Byakuya rose and moved toward the door, but before he left, he gave Rukia one final parting glance. Then he turned and left.

This time when Byakuya fell asleep, he felt a kind of contentedness that he hadn't felt in years. Only at the back of his conscience did it bother him that the last thing on his mind was a dark-haired girl with the gentlest of expressions, peacefully asleep.

* * *

When Rukia was jerked awake by the sound of persistent banging on her bedroom door the next morning, she was thrown into a state of utter confusion. When had she gotten back to her room? How? She could've sworn that she'd last been awake in the back on the veranda, attempting to sort out her thoughts before being interrupted by Nii-sama…

Oh. Nii-sama.

She must have fallen asleep mid-sentence and given him no choice but to drag her sleeping corpse back to bed.

Well, if that wasn't embarrassing. She could tell it was not a good morning to wake up to, despite (or maybe because) the girl still beating on the door shouting, "Good morning Rukia!" a little too cheerfully for the time of day.

"Ugh…Yuu, I'm awake!" Rukia yelled, half wanting to yank open the door and deck the girl in the face before slamming it again.

The servant girl bounded in and before Rukia could protest she threw open the windows, letting sunlight burst into the room and bleaching everything in sight. On any other day she would cover her eyes and laugh it off, but today Rukia wished the sun would just go to hell.

"Gooood morning! It's a lovely new…uh…are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Rukia growled from somewhere under her pillow.

As much as she wanted to feign illness and regain those precious lost hours of sleep, she did have a soul reaping job to attend to. Begrudgingly she threw back her toasty comforter and rolled out into the nippy morning air.

"You probably know this," Yuu began as she continued opening windows to Rukia's despair, "but your bathroom should be fixed by tonight! Also, I thought I should let you know there is another dinner tomorrow…"

Rukia's skin prickled. "With who?"

Yuu grinned. "The Taira!"

_Great. _She didn't feel up to having old men hit on her, accompanied by other old men who hated her. Couldn't she be left alone without all these pesky strangers bothering her?

"Oh, and Kuchiki-sama is waiting for you," Yuu said, glancing away sheepishly. "I was a little late to wake you up, and, well, you _wouldn't_ wake up, but it's 7:43 now so—"

Crap!

Rukia tore out of her futon so fast she nearly tripped over a construction beam and brained herself on the bathroom tiles on her way to the sink. She was brushing her teeth and halfway into her shihakusho by the time the headrush hit, while Yuu footled about fretting on how to help. Forty seconds later she was in full uniform, flash stepping over the threshold to where Byakuya was situated. She leapt into her seat and opened her mouth to apologize when it dawned on her that she had a breakfast date with Kiyone that very morning.

A breakfast date! She'd completely forgotten—and as it was, she was already late to breakfast with Nii-sama. Rukia took one look at her decidedly unamused brother and knew she wasn't going anywhere. She couldn't bring herself to disappoint him twice in a row.

Rukia lowered her gaze. "I apologize for my tardiness, Nii-sama. It will not happen again."

Nii-sama was displeased, but he said nothing. It was at times like this that Rukia wished he would just curse or yell or do whatever he needed to get it out of his system, like Ichigo or Renji. At least then she wouldn't spend the rest of her meal pretending she didn't exist.

Breakfast was fifteen minutes cold but she ate fast, intent on getting to headquarters as soon as possible. She finished in record time and bid her brother good day before bolting out and dialing Kiyone. The girl didn't pick up. With a prickling sense of foreboding Rukia shunpoed to her division, and for once that day she wasn't actually late. But no sooner had she stepped inside than she heard an irritated blonde making a scene in the office, and Rukia wondered if maybe she should have stayed home sick after all, because as she tiptoed in she heard the resounding smash of what sounded like the remains of Ukitake-taichou's desk.

"I have a few _souls_ to reap because somebody didn't show up for their breakfast date!" Kiyone shouted, taking out her frustrations on her co-seat as she grabbed a handful of reports and flung them at him.

"Not mine, you dipstick!" Kotsubaki roared, shielding himself with an arm as paper scattered everywhere. He grabbed an inkstone to return fire before he noticed Rukia in the doorway.

She half-waved awkwardly.

Unfortunately Kiyone saw her at the exact same time. "You!" she howled. "Where have you been?"

Rukia knew the display was mostly for show, but even so, she sidled in trying to look as small and harmless as possible. "I am so sorry, Kiyone, I completely forgot—"

"I was waiting for thirty minutes! You didn't even call until after I left!"

"I know, I'm sorry…"

"Don't you know how terrible it is to keep a girl waiting? You're lucky I'm so forgiving!"

"I know, I'm a terrible person," Rukia said with a weak smile. "Next time you should just send me to Hell."

"Oh, believe me, I will."

Kotsubaki peeled a piece of tape off his uniform. "Well, that was anticlimatic."

Kiyone smacked him. "You started it."

Rukia looked over the sad remains of the office. "I'm sorry I started a war."

"Well, next time show up on time, okay?"

"Tomorrow?" Rukia asked. "Same time? Seven-thirty at the Soul Café?"

"Fine. And this time you better show up!" Kiyone admonished. She wandered off, still muttering under her breath. "Thirty minutes, Rukia, thirty minutes…and I was so excited to tell you the news…"

"What news?"

"You don't get to find out because you didn't show up!"

"Oh. Okay." Rukia turned around and started counting to ten.

At seven, Kiyone opened her mouth. "Okay, I'll give you a hint. We're planning another photoshoot—"

Rukia and Kotsubaki groaned.

"Hey, don't groan! This is serious business!"

"Spare me," Kotsubaki muttered.

"Well no one is going to take pictures of you, you ugly toad! And cover your ears! You're not supposed to be eavesdropping on our secret girl talk!"

"I'm not eavesdropping you monkey girl! And if it's a secret then stop talking about it!"

Rukia frowned. "Um…didn't we try this before?" And by we, of course, she meant the idiots who were running the project nowadays, which was pretty much everyone excluding herself.

"Yeah, but we need the funds and the photobook is the best we've got. Fortunately for you it'll include Kurosaki this time—not like you haven't seen him half-naked already, but whatever." Kiyone grinned. "You missed last night's meeting, so I figured you'd want in on the news."

This wasn't really news, Rukia decided. The Shinigami Women's Association was a devious fangirl club in disguise, always trying to snap hot shots for their "photobook" which always came off sounding more like a porn collection than a photo directory. Apparently it was difficult because they always spent more resources trying (and failing) to get photos than their budget allowed, which meant they were actually draining funds instead of raising them. Though it seemed the members of the SWA had yet to notice…

"And photos of Taichou!" Kiyone squealed, bouncing around like the not-so-secret fangirl she was. Upon seeing Kotsubaki's sour face, she added, "And, of course, everyone except Kotsubaki. Abarai-fukutaichou, Hisagi-fukutaichou, Kuchiki-taichou…"

Rukia rolled her eyes.

"I really want pictures of Kuchiki-taichou," Kiyone teased.

"You always want pictures of Kuchiki-taichou," Rukia retorted.

"Who doesn't?" Kiyone laughed. "He's going to be the cover boy of the photobook, I tell you. I don't think there's a woman alive who can resist such delicious eye candy." She paused, taking in Rukia's disapproving expression. "I mean, even you've got to admit he's handsome, right?"

Rukia gave her a look. "In my position, I would think that would be a strange question."

"Not really," Kiyone mused. "I asked if you thought he was hot, not if you'd hook up with him."

Kotsubaki made a noise from his desk. "That's disgusting, Kiyone."

Kiyone shrugged. "Well, if he was my adopted brother, I'd still think he was hot. I don't think there's anything wrong with finding someone attractive—sometimes you just can't act on it, that's all. It's like that Kidou 101 class back in our Shinou days. Remember him, the kidou professor? Saito-sensei was smoking hot and everyone knew it. But no one ever acted on it."

Rukia snorted as she looked up. "I would hope. You sure like to put dangerous ideas in people's heads, Kiyone."

"Well this was one dangerous idea I thought you should know about. We're really looking forward to it," she said, rubbing her hands and sounding deviously fangirly. If Nii-sama were present, Rukia thought he might actually feel a twinge of fear.

"I guess I should let him know?" Rukia said dryly.

"Actually, we were wondering if you could help us."

Rukia's mouth went dry.

"We were hoping you could—_hahaha_, Rukia! Don't give me that look. I just meant we were hoping you'd be willing to, you know, distract him."

"And what would you like me to do, pole dance? You make it sound like he actually pays attention to me."

"I mean, don't give him a heart attack, but I'm sure you could find some way to grab your brother's attention."

Oh, Rukia already had. Though she wasn't sure she could employ the stunt with an audience…

At that point Ukitake entered the office, effectively killing the conversation much to Rukia and Kotsubaki's relief. Ukitake, on the other hand, took one look at his office and sighed. "Can anyone explain why my office looks like a herd of Vasto Lordes swept through it?"

Kiyone and Kotsubaki pointed at one another.

"This twerp had a temper tantrum, that's what!"

"Hey, monkey-man! You were the one who started throwing things!"

"Because you wouldn't shut up!"

Ukitake slumped. "Both of you…"

The third seats froze. Then, just as suddenly, they were zooming around the office, racing to clean up every report and fallen paperclip to spare.

"Don't worry Taichou, I'll clean it up for you!"

"No! I'll do it, Taichou, and I'll do it faster!"

Rukia decided to get to work. She bid them a good day and left with a hell butterfly on hand. On her way out, though, she didn't miss overhearing their next argument…this time about whether Rukia preferred "Red" or "Orange."

She ignored it, as usual.

And as usual, she was scheduled to patrol. The good thing about patrolling was that there weren't crazy numbers of hollows wallowing around, at least on days when there weren't last-of-their-kind survivors who had to prove their worth by calling in hordes of hollows that they couldn't defeat. So after arriving and purifying a few souls, Rukia popped by her favorite window in Karakura.

"I came to check on you," she greeted from the windowsill, "since yesterday went awry."

Ichigo, who until he noticed her had that trademark scowl, looked pleasantly surprised. "Ah, Ru—"

"_Neeeeee-san!_"

Rukia was glomped by a sobbing stuffed animal which immediately suckered his face to her chest. Normally any male who attached himself to Rukia's chest would be sent to the next world in a heartbeat, but she only kicked his face in and sighed. "And you wonder why I never come here anymore. This place is crawling with sexual assault."

"It's not my fault, and—god, Kon, cut it out. I can't have stuffed animals molesting people in public."

He shut his door before Yuzu or Karin walked by and snatched up the lion by the tuft of his tail. Kon dangled for a second before spinning in circles, gathering speed with centrifugal force while shouting obscenities no stuffed animal should know at his captor.

"Sorry for snapping yesterday," Rukia said, feeling like she was apologizing a lot today. "You still are an idiot though."

"Whatever. It was Renji's fault anyway."

Rukia glanced around as the boys fought behind her. Ichigo's room looked the same as ever, and from where she was standing she could see the street she once walked daily. For a moment she wished she could live that life again, when she would spend her days as a human going to school with wacky classmates and training the fledgling Ichigo. Back then her greatest worry had been what would happen in the next chapter of her favorite manga. No Winter War, no stupid Hougyoku, no inner Hollow eating Ichigo's soul alive…things were so much simpler then.

She found herself wandering toward the closet and automatically she opened the door. To her surprise her bed was still there, as well as Yuzu's pajamas she'd stolen and some secondhand magazines Inoue had once lent her.

"I missed these," she said, scooping up the magazines and tucking them under her arm. "You know I'll be taking these with me."

"Suit yourself. I don't read them."

Rukia smiled. "I kind of miss my closet."

Ichigo snorted. "The closet misses you."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Honestly, I'm surprised you kept everything. I thought I told you I wouldn't be coming back?"

"You should," Ichigo said. "I'm sure Kon can handle one more night of being strapped to the back of the toilet."

"_Hey!_"

"I would love to," Rukia replied in earnest. "Really. But I have a lot on my plate this week. A whole array of family affairs, a photoshoot Kiyone is forcing me to take part in—"

"A photoshoot?"

"They want me to help them sneak photographs of Nii-sama."

He raised a brow.

"Again," she added.

Ichigo gave an unexpected bark of laughter.

She frowned. "Why are you laughing?"

The strawberry grinned. "Your brother's such an ass. I don't know whether it's commendable or just plain weird that he can go fifty years without even thinking about a girl when throngs of them are ready to jump him where he stands. I've never met a guy who both attracts and refuses so much female attention. Maybe he doesn't swing that way? Or maybe he's just _incapable_."

"Nii-sama is _not_ gay, and maybe _you_ are just jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I just don't pretend to be something I'm not."

"You pretend to be a prude while peeking at undressing girls."

"What are you implying? I was covering my eyes!"

"Yeah. We noticed."

"Hey, all guys peek _some_time! We can't help it! I'll bet you anything Byakuya does too. If he's a man then he's no different."

Rukia was about to retort that Byakuya and Ichigo, as much as she loved them both, were very much different men, and that Nii-sama had _principles_ that _prevented_ him from sneaking around peeking at underdressed girls. But the memory of him staring at her in the bath made her stop short.

But Nii-sama would never purposely peek…right? He was just taken by surprise…

Rukia flushed and turned away. "Whatever. I promise to visit again, whenever I get the chance. But I am technically on duty and a little short on sleep, so I suppose I should get going before I screw something else up."

"Yeah, yeah, get out of here."

It was pouring again when Rukia returned with a stack of magazines under one arm and shoujo horror on the other. She reached the estate and quickly shelved away her newfound spoils. _Rabu Rabu_, _Eighteen Magazine_, a few romance manga…who said she didn't have a love life? It was just in print. And…written about other people.

But she was busy, she told herself. If she had the time and freedom and energy, she might take her love life into consideration…but she knew it was better not to get attached. Even if she managed to find "the one", the family would be all over her back like ants on a carcass. They would never allow a relationship unless it had some greater benefit for the Kuchiki name. It was all part of being in an old-fashioned family; next thing she knew, she'd be assigned a marriage to that old geezer Taira or something stupid like that. Even then, she'd probably resign herself to duty and marry the guy. Everyone would simply expect it.

Nii-sama more than anyone. Even if he'd broken the law to marry her sister, he would never allow her to shirk her duty for her own personal fulfillment. When she first learned the truth about Byakuya's past, it shocked her because she'd never considered he might be capable of such a thing. Afterward she just assumed he'd suffered the faults of the young, because the Nii-sama she knew would never commit such an atrocity. An atrocity, they called it, in which he fell for the one girl he shouldn't and then married her.

___Such feelings aren't necessary for shinigami_. But if Kaien and Miyako and even Nii-sama had fallen for those feelings, were Kiyone's ideas—the SWA's ideas—really so absurd? If friendship wasn't necessary, why did Nii-sama allow her to circumnavigate the rules and go after Ichigo all those times? If love was nothing but hindrance to duty, why was the family giving Nii-sama time to handpick his mate?

Rukia was so lost in thought that she ran into the man in question. Literally.

"Nii-sama!" she squeaked as she bounced off his chest, surprised they'd run into each other thrice in 24 hours.

Byakuya barely looked at her. "Rukia. I would like to speak with you."

Rukia's breath caught and she snapped to attention, dreading that the conversation would turn to drinking habits. Bad drinking habits.

"Yes…Nii-sama?"

"As you asked whether we would be having another meeting, I assumed you would want to know the news," Byakuya droned, gaze somewhere above her as he talked to the wall. "We will be guests at the Taira residence at five o'clock tomorrow evening."

For a moment Rukia hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected topic. She opened her mouth to say she'd been informed, but when she looked up, her mouth stopped. Byakuya was turning toward her. Which, in memory of yesterday's events, was just about the very last thing she wanted right then. That not 24 hours ago he was in her bath…Rukia's face went hot.

And then, to add fuel to the fire:

_He's going to be the cover boy of the photobook, I tell you._

Funny how women everywhere wanted to ogle him to death, but right now Rukia couldn't even look at him.

"Yes, Nii-sama," she squeaked, but by then he had mistaken her silence for acceptance and already passed her by. He didn't even look at her. She watched apprehensively as he browsed through a collection of books while those words churned mercilessly in her head.

_Even you've got to admit he's handsome, right?_

Without thinking, Rukia flicked her gaze toward him. Fortunately Byakuya was still turned round, his interest captured in some old tome. Feeling as voyeuristic as if she'd walked in on him in _his_ bath, Rukia stared at him.

It was like watching from a window. She didn't feel privy to such an unguarded moment, but she was curious, catching him inattentive to her gaze. Without thought she traced his nobleman's brow to the straight, flat line of his mouth. His lips were thin but shapely; if he smiled, Rukia imagined it would be terrifying but lovely. Her gaze followed his sleek jawline, his fair complexion framed by long locks of rich sable-colored hair. She'd always secretly wanted to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked, but she had a feeling that would be crossing some sort of boundary.

Then Byakuya turned back to the shelf and Rukia felt something inside her die as she haplessly admired her brother's assets.

In her mind, Kiyone cackled. _Well, if he was my brother, I'd still think he was hot._

He was handsome. He was the most handsome thing she'd ever laid eyes upon. People gossiped an embarrassing lot about the many attractive death gods Soul Society had to offer, but now she understood what it meant when the SWA wanted private photoshoots with the man. He was gorgeous. Dashing. Beautiful, even. And it surprised her because suddenly, she couldn't quite look him in the eye.

Damn Kiyone and the Shinigami Women's Association for this one.

Then Byakuya turned, and Rukia found that her stare was no longer on his assets but suddenly on his you-know-where, and to her utter mortification she couldn't help but wonder how big—

"Rukia. I asked you a question."

Rukia nearly jumped out of her skin. She didn't realize he'd asked anything, but it didn't matter, because the only thing running through her blanking mind was, _Oh my god, Nii-sama did not just catch me staring at his crotch._

He was waiting, she realized, and that was when Rukia started to panic. She didn't even know what the question was. And now all of a sudden her thoughts weren't thinking themselves in the right order, let alone strung into proper sentences, and if she said something now she would just plain embarrass herself. But before she could open her mouth to certain doom, Yuu entered the room to save her.

"Good evening!" Yuu exclaimed as Rukia let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "How is your nose today, Kuchiki-sama?"

Byakuya stirred. "…Fine."

Rukia turned a sideways glance on him. Something happened to his nose? He looked…fine.

_More than fine, actually._

Rukia quashed the thought.

The girl nodded her satisfaction before pausing to note Rukia's obvious fatigue. Her smile faded as her eyes hit the mud slaked over the hem of Rukia's hakama, and as her gaze traveled upward Rukia could tell she wasn't pleased.

Yuu looked up and smiled. "You look like you need a nice relaxing soak, Rukia-san! Would you like me to warm up a bath?"

Rukia's face burned scarlet.

She flashed the girl a warning look that said _drop it_. But apparently Yuu took it to mean something else, because then she added, "Oh! Don't worry—I wouldn't offer something of Kuchiki-sama without his permission." She turned to Byakuya with an imploring face and asked, "Kuchiki-sama, sir? _Would_ you mind if Rukia-san bathed in your quarters?"

Rukia nearly facepalmed.

For the first time since he'd laid eyes on her in the bath, Byakuya looked at her. She felt his eyes assess her as she stared at the ground, silently cursing Yuu for her ineptitude. Rukia was certain that if she wasn't cherry faced before, she was now. And Nii-sama was looking right at it.

Then she felt his eyes move away.

"I will be going to division headquarters," he replied flatly, his gaze elsewhere. "Do as you wish."

"There you go!" Yuu chirped, bouncing into a bow. "Thank you, Kuchiki-sama! Your generosity is never in vain! Rukia-san will be prettier than a pocketful of daisies when I'm done, I promise!"

Before Rukia could object, she found herself being dragged off to Byakuya's bedroom as Byakuya looked on in silence.


	4. Byakuya vs Rukia vs The Chappy Plushie

_It's the start of something brand new_

_It's the start of the closing line_

_With the door cracked an inch or two_

_Do I dare set my foot inside?_

* * *

At the Kuchiki household breakfast consisted of something traditional, usually fish cake, congee and miso soup. There wasn't much variation since rice and miso were standard fare and breakfast was too unceremonious for even the Kuchiki to expand upon. Rukia wasn't one to complain, however. Having grown up in one of the poorest districts of Rukongai, she'd learned to eat pretty much anything. The only thing that sometimes bothered her was the task of actually sitting down and forcing rice down her throat.

This was compounded by the fact that she ate breakfast with her brother. While this in itself was no bother to her, it _did_ bother her that she had to sit face to face with a man for virtually twenty minutes at the start of each day, during which the entire conversation might consist of:

"Good morning, Nii-sama."

A nod of acknowledgment.

Five minutes later:

"Could you…pass the salt?"

"…Yes."

And it didn't help when said brother had reason to be disappointed in her. The coldness he could project made even the finest homemade dishes taste like sawdust in her mouth, as she was rereminded à la yesterday.

So going out was a bit of a refresher. The Soul Café was a specialty shop, the only place in Soul Society that sold Western-style human foods (though it appeared they had yet to import juice boxes into the mix). Rukia entered the cutesy coffee shop and waved at the owner, whom patrons had affectionately dubbed "The Muffin Man," before spotting Kiyone at the other end of the establishment. It helped that the girl, upon seeing her, started waving her arms frantically like she was bringing in a plane.

"You came, you came!" Kiyone sang as Rukia slipped into the chair across from her.

"I learned my lesson," she teased back.

She wasn't terribly hungry, but for Kiyone's sake she ordered a cranberry nut muffin and breakfast tea. Kiyone ordered a chocolate chip muffin with a side of mayonnaise, advertised as "a real specialty" from the living world. Rukia didn't think the two tasted right, but then, that was probably just another human thing…

"So now that you've had time to think, have you decided?" Kiyone began, dousing her muffin with a heavy glob of mayonnaise.

Without thinking Rukia asked, "Decided what?"

"You know what."

Oh. Right. Rukia realized that given her rather "telling" reaction last time, this particular topic was going to be inevitable for weeks to come.

"I told you, Kiyone. And why is it every time we talk nowadays, the only thing you find worth discussing is _boys_?"

"Hey! _Boys_ are serious business!"

"Ah."

"Besides, you're friends with Kurosaki Ichigo and Abarai Renji," Kiyone reminded her, as if Rukia had somehow forgotten. "Girls everywhere are jealous of you—not to mention your proximity to Kuchiki-taichou, Captain Sex Magnet himself. So don't tell me it's neither, or that you don't like anyone." Kiyone paused. "Or don't you like anyone? I bet you don't. You know, I bet you don't even like boys—that's why you're never interested!"

That wasn't true. She'd _had_ crushes. Granted, they were on married dead men, but that was a mere triviality. Rukia peeled the paper cup off and delicately started nibbling on her muffin bottom first. "I am not gay, Kiyone, I assure you."

"Well good, because you're supposed to help out with that photoshoot I was talking about, and it would defeat the entire purpose if you weren't even interested."

On second thought, maybe she _should_ be gay.

"Defeat the purpose?" Rukia repeated incredulously. "I thought you said it was because you needed help getting photos of Nii-sama."

"Um…that was what I meant! Haha…"

_Right._

But as cynical as Rukia felt, she wondered if there really was some kind of merit behind Kiyone's ideas, because yesterday it had actually worked. The problem was that instead of ogling good-looking strangers or hot best buds, she'd ended up eyeballing her own brother instead. That had been particularly alarming because for one long moment, Rukia couldn't help but stare with what could only be called disturbing fascination.

That kind of fascination wouldn't happen again, if Rukia could help it. She couldn't believe she'd looked at him like that in the first place.

"So how are we going to do this?" Kiyone wondered aloud, tapping her teaspoon to her chin like she was deep in some profound thought. "You mentioned pole dancing, yes?"

Rukia frantically shook her head, more to clear her head than to deny Kiyone's suggestion, although ideas like that weren't helping in the least. "I still don't see why I have to be involved," she groused, beginning to resent that she'd come at all. "If you're so desperate, why don't you install video cameras?"

"Privacy."

"Doesn't seem to bother you."

"I mean, it's illegal."

"So is breaking and entering."

"That's where you come in."

"And you think I'm just going to let you fangirls traipse in and have run of the manor while you photographically abuse my poor unsuspecting brother," Rukia deadpanned.

Kiyone just sipped her tea, apparently indifferent to the thought of making Byakuya suffer. Rukia was sure that the heartless women of the SWA could make any one of the captains dissolve into tears and they still wouldn't bat an eyelash. "We already do have run of the manor—you can thank the president for that," Kiyone said dismissively. "All you'd have to do is play decoy."

"Kiyone, both of us know you will carry this out whether or not I help you," Rukia reminded her.

A catty grin lit up Kiyone's face. "I know, but it'd be much more fun if you were in on it too."

Rukia gave her a worn smile. "Maybe so. But do you think I'd join you just for that?"

"Oh, you want a little convincing, do you?" Kiyone set down her tea. "Every shinigami has her price. We just need to find out what yours is."

"Like you could bribe me into selling my brother's virtue," Rukia retorted, before adding a very curious, "with…what?"

Kiyone grinned. "How about free prints after we get the photobook together?"

Rukia shook her head.

"Or the next volume of that comic you always read?"

Rukia shook her head.

"A year's free subscription to the _Seireitei Tsuushin_? _Rabu Rabu_? _Eighteen Magazine_? Oh, I'll make your coffee for a month! No? Free muffins—I don't know. My next paycheck? A pair of Ichigo's boxers—hey, come back, I was joking! Um…a free vacation to anywhere in the real world—"

"Be reasonable," Rukia said, settling back into her seat. "You are asking me to sell Nii-sama's soul to Soul Society's most notorious fangirl posse. It would have to be _worth_ it."

Kiyone slumped. "What about that new limited-edition Chappy plush?"

_No._

Not the Chappy plushie.

* * *

"Byakuya-sama."

Byakuya looked up. He had just started on his meal when his most trusted advisor walked in, hunched beneath a warm shawl, squinting at him with a brush and scroll in hand.

"I apologize for disturbing your meal," Fudo said, "but there is something I would like to discuss, if you so mind."

Byakuya inclined his head toward Rukia's empty seat. Fudo hobbled toward the silken floor cushion and sat down.

"As you know, Soul Society has recently fallen into a state of decline," Fudo began. "Since the traitors have defected from our ranks, they have weakened our forces and started this ceaseless conflict to the turmoil of our world. Our resources are being drained, our shinigami are being lost, and we are putting our entire effort into fighting a war that has no clear end in sight. The threat of disaster hangs constantly over our heads, and at present there is nothing we can do to alleviate it."

"Might this be another effort to push me to wed?" Byakuya said, suddenly feeling irritable. If conjugality was where the old man was going, he had better just spit it out.

"No," Fudo said evenly. "I am giving you time to make your decision. I would, however, like to make a suggestion of your sister."

Byakuya stiffened.

"As mentioned two nights ago, Taira is looking to wife," Fudo continued. "We have maintained an amicable relationship with the Taira and our dinner tonight confirms it. Both families would benefit from a union, and since we do not have holdings within the Taira house, this would be ideal."

Byakuya stared at his advisor, who had an oddly expectant look on his wizened face. If ever there was a time when he thought the topic of marrying off Rukia would make for some exciting mealtime conversation, this was not it.

"This is sudden," Byakuya said.

Fudo adjusted his glasses. "The girl is of age, and as it stands, she has not yet made a proper sociopolitical contribution to the family. Her duty as a member of the main house is to be a vessel used to strengthen the clan. She still has yet to do that."

He shouldn't have been surprised. Common practice dictated that marriage between noble families was used in one of two ways. One, it was used to increase a family's social standing by marrying into more prominent families. This was especially popular among lower nobility. The second way, and more importantly, involved a marriage between two families of similar stature to increase the holdings of both houses. It would cement friendly relations between the houses, and the Kuchiki would be able to extend their influence over the Taira, thus expanding the power of their clan.

There was the chance that should Byakuya die and fail to heir, Rukia would have little choice but to take over for the Kuchiki. Since he wasn't dead, though, it was a moot point. Usually women were designated the role of uniting families, not leading them. Female heads did happen—Shihouin Yoruichi was a prime example—but if marriage could unite two families, it was always the preferable course of action.

"I say this because I feel the matter will be approached in the near future," Fudo rambled on. "Taira is looking, after all. I would not be surprised if he broached the subject tonight."

Byakuya gave him a sharp look. "I would hope the man is not brash enough to spring the question within two days of meeting her."

"Indeed," Fudo said. "But your greatest interest for Rukia is her protection, is it not? She would be much safer tending to domestic affairs than shinigami duties out on the field."

"I have taken many precautions for her protection," Byakuya retorted.

"Times are changing," Fudo said, frowning. "The front is not what it used to be. How many times have you had to intercept the enemy and fight additional battles with regard to Rukia?"

Byakuya was silent.

"Although that is another matter," Fudo said dismissively. "The issue here is a political one. The Taira are old money, one of the oldest families in Seireitei. Why turn down an offer we know they will make and make our family look bad?"

There was truth to Fudo's words. Taira _mentioned_ that nubile noblewomen were hard to come by, and then right afterward he'd asked for Rukia's opinion—whether those born and those who were assimilated had any significant differences. Rukia had answered wisely, but perhaps in the scheme of things, it would have been better if she hadn't.

But why? Byakuya should have been quick to approve. Marriage was basically inevitable for high-ranking noblewomen, and frankly, his advisor was right; Rukia would be much safer as a nobleman's wife than constantly risking her life on the battlefield. Byakuya was preoccupied with Rukia's well-being, going out of his way to make sure she would never be sent on a dangerous mission, but with the war at hand even Byakuya could no longer guarantee her safety. This marriage would be the perfect way to protect her.

Byakuya looked down at his untouched food. Suddenly his meal looked entirely unappetizing.

"How soon?"

"As soon as possible," the old man answered. "No one is getting younger, and if not now, then when? We must not hesitate but act when the time is right. In the end I could only support such a fortuitous proposal. Or did you have a different suggestion in mind?"

Byakuya gave him a look. "I had not taken any such proposition into account."

Fudo met his gaze. "I think it would be a suitable match."

Byakuya shifted his attention to the window beside him. Outside, the sun was just beginning to peek over the walls of the frosty courtyard.

If this went through, Rukia would be leaving his house forever. And while he'd always known this day would come, he never thought it might come so quickly. He didn't understand the sudden weight in his stomach though, or why his soup looked positively sickening at the news. Was it that he'd come to expect Rukia by his side, as she always was? Because she'd been his only companion, despite their lack of close emotional bonds? Or because she was some kind of last tie to the past? To…Hisana?

It shouldn't have been, because Byakuya knew he had to keep that distinction drawn more than anything. Since her adoption—or maybe because of it—there had been a fine line between them that could never be crossed. But Byakuya had a feeling that if he did let Rukia go, some vital part of him would be lost—forever.

At Byakuya's silence, Fudo peered at him over the rims of his round glasses. "Unless you have any objections…?"

"I will consider it." The words came without Byakuya's consent.

The older man studied Byakuya for a moment, then pushed the scroll forward and rose. Before he left, though, he turned and set his discerning gaze on Byakuya.

"I must advise you not to be selfish, Byakuya-sama," Fudo said. "The family is depending on you to do what is right for this clan. I need not remind you that that is of greatest importance."

Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

Byakuya looked at his now cold breakfast and sighed. Without a glance at the document that had been left him, he shunpoed to his office where he received a warm greeting from his redheaded lieutenant. Byakuya just handed the man a good-sized stack of paper and sent him away.

"See to it that these are completed and delivered to the 1st."

"Righto, Captain."

Renji retreated and Byakuya settled down to work, hoping to take his mind off things. No sooner had he sat down, though, than a masked messenger appeared, delivering a missive from the head division._ Important orders from the captain-general_, the top flap read.

Great…more news. Idly wondering if the traitors had struck and the Gotei 13 were being deployed to the frontlines, Byakuya opened the letter.

* * *

Rukia was beside herself with trepidation and excitement. Kiyone had just offered her an exclusive limited-edition Chappy plush…in exchange for helping the SWA get photos of her adopted brother. Naked.

Okay, not quite _naked_, but certainly less clothed than she should have liked.

Her first reaction should have been an automatic, irrefutable _no_. She shouldn't have even considered it. But all she could think of were floating pink bunny plushies, which for Rukia was something like Nirvana. Chappy was the most popular and coveted collectible in all of Soul Society, with Yuki the duck running a distant second. Somehow Rukia always got stuck with the duck. But to consider getting her paws on a real authentic Chappy plush collectible?

All it would take was one, maybe two pictures of her brother. Possibly without a shirt. It couldn't hurt, right? Besides, she wanted that plushie. There were only a handful floating around, and their scarce supply coupled with overwhelming demand meant it was downright impossible to purchase somewhere—you had to have connections. Even Urahara Kisuke, king of underground connections himself, never managed to get her the Chappy Soul Pill dispenser she'd asked for, let alone a plush toy. But the girls at the SWA would have these connections. True, she already owned a Chappy toothbrush and Chappy pencil tops and a Chappy gikon and even Chappy underwear. But a plushie?

The only thing that hung in the balance was Nii-sama's dignity, and possibly her own.

The Chappy plush? Or Nii-sama?

Slight revision needed. The Chappy plush…or _half-naked_ _Nii-sama_?

After all, he owed her one, right? He'd walked in on her, anyway—and she'd been _stark naked_ at that. It was only fair that she return the favor.

For a moment, it was the worst decision she'd been faced with. But this was Chappy being dangled in front of Soul Society's most rabid Chappy fan. Her own ice zanpakutou stood a better chance in Hell than Rukia did on the brink of this deal with the devil that was Kiyone.

"Alright," she conceded, chugging her tea like it was a shot of the liquid courage Matsumoto was so fond of. She slammed her cup down and tried not to fry the blonde with her scorching gaze. "I find a way to help you get pictures of Nii-sama, you find a way to get me the Chappy plush. Agreed?"

Kiyone took one long look at Rukia, then shook her head in dismay. "You are one sad little girl, Kuchiki Rukia."

"I know."

"Not to mention…_evil_."

"Things even out."

"He might actually kill us this time."

"I'll make sure your deaths are quick and painless."

Kiyone waited. When Rukia said nothing, her eyebrows shot up. "You're actually serious about this, aren't you," she accused.

Rukia just grinned. "Wasn't this your idea? I thought you would be happy."

"I am happy, I'm just a little shocked," Kiyone said, now matching Rukia grin for grin. "And—wait—Kuchiki Byakuya versus a Chappy plushie, and guess who wins Rukia's heart? Wait till the girls hear about this!"

"Don't go parading it around," Rukia scolded, glancing around in case she needed to bury witnesses. "I'm just saying I would be willing to…you know, help a bit…if it means getting that Chappy plush."

That cracked Kiyone up even more. "Geez, Rukia! Are you really that desperate for a Chappy plush or are you just the Kuchiki closet prankster?"

Rukia smirked. "A little of both, but this is nothing. You should have seen me in my Rukongai days."

"True," Kiyone admitted. "But…this is your Nii-sama we're talking about. You obviously respect him. Are you sure this is something you could do?" Pause. "Do you _want_ to do it?"

For Chappy Rukia would do anything. She shrugged, chin in palm, as she absently crumpled her muffin cup. "It's not disrespecting him, it's just…"

_What?_

Rukia shrugged again. "He needs more…appreciation."

She expected the blonde to go off into a tizzy again. This time, however, the blonde covered her mouth and smiled coyly.

"You're such a naughty girl, Rukia."

Rukia felt a cold wave wash over her nerves. She stared at Kiyone, regarding the girl with a guarded expression.

"What do you mean, naughty?" she asked in a low voice.

"You're breaking the rules, obviously," Kiyone answered easily, a stark contrast to Rukia's cagey response. "I doubt our deal would garner much respect in the eyes of your family." She grinned, the real meaning of the conversation lost on her. "Why? What kind of naughty did you think I meant?"

"N…nothing."

Rukia swallowed.

Of course. Kiyone hadn't been serious when she'd chattered nonsensically about Rukia being attracted to her own kin. She'd been on a roll, throwing names left and right that would catch any female's attention, and Rukia's brother was no exception. Rukia was being naughty because she was taking part in their photobook scheme, thereby pitting herself against her own idol of a brother. That was it. There was nothing more to construe.

Somehow, though, Rukia wished Kiyone _was_ referring to that other kind of naughty, because she realized that despite her earlier joking, Kiyone wasn't even considering it. That made Rukia even more uncomfortable, because she actually had.

Unaware of the dilemma she'd caused, Kiyone glanced at her phone and sighed. "Looks like it's time to go. We wouldn't want to be late again, eh?"

Rukia nodded, relieved at the change in topic. "Kotsubaki might make a scene like last time."

Kiyone laughed. "Don't worry. Aside from the fact that I told him I'd beat him up if he did that again, he's on assignment today, which means I get to spend the entire day in the office alone." Then she gasped. "Do you want to work in the office today?"

"What?"

"The office," Kiyone repeated. "Taichou is sick and Kotsubaki is on a mission, and I don't want to spend all day by myself. Let's have a girl's day at the office!"

Rukia wasn't sure she would be able to put up with Kiyone for an eight hour shift if it was going to revolve around boys and the SWA and all other circles of silly gossip. Kiyone didn't give her much choice though. She dragged Rukia to headquarters where she switched her out of patrol and replaced her with someone who'd been scheduled for paperwork. Naturally it was within the third seat's rights to do so, but Rukia thought Kiyone was being a little dictatorial for her own personal fulfillment. Although the office attendant did seem too happy to be replaced…

"We're not talking about boys or photobooks or anything of the sort," Rukia said, laying the ground rules before the topic wormed itself into the conversation again. "Promise?"

Kiyone threw an arm around Rukia—something she tended to do when drunk. "Promise! Now let's get this show on a roll. I'll start on this pile and you can organize those bins."

Rukia got down to work. Despite her worrying, it was Kiyone's company that made the morning pass faster than it usually did. Filing papers was so insanely boring that Rukia preferred the harder physical labor of patrols any day. The thing that made office work tolerable was good company and office pranks, but since Kotsubaki and Ukitake were out, she only had the former. She resigned herself to paper pushing while Kiyone worked on the budget.

After a small eternity, Kiyone put down her brush. "I can't get it out of my head, Rukia."

Rukia knew what she was referring to instantly. "Sounds like that won't be cured until you get to announce it to the SWA."

"Oh, have some faith, Rukia. I can keep my mouth shut. The only ones who will know about it are Unohana-taichou and Ise-fukutaichou," Kiyone said, listing off the names of the chairwoman and vice president respectively. "We couldn't even tell the president, because then she'd run off and tell Kuchiki-taichou herself."

"You'd tell Kotsubaki," Rukia challenged.

Kiyone rolled her eyes. "Okay, yes, but he doesn't count."

"You'd tell Isane," Rukia said, smiling now. "You'd tell Taichou. Hell, you'd tell the dead if you could."

"Only Kaien-sama," Kiyone said with a grin. "He always did want to see your brother fall off his high horse. He'd find it hilarious if he could hear what you agreed to today."

Rukia's smile faded at the name. "Has there been talk of replacing the lieutenant's seat?"

Kiyone shook her head. "Still no. I mean, us third seats take care of most of the work anyway, but it would be nice if Taichou would hurry up and pick someone. The seat has been empty for forty years. It's time we had a lieutenant for this division."

Forty years, since she'd killed Lieutenant Shiba Kaien. It wasn't her fault, everyone said, and she'd been forgiven after finally confronting his family on the matter. But their forgiveness didn't lessen the pain at all. Sometimes it felt like the lieutenant's seat was being deliberately left empty just to taunt her.

What Kiyone said next surprised her. "I was watching you practice the other day," she said, her expression suddenly sober. It didn't suit her. "You really should be a seated officer, Rukia."

"No, I shouldn't."

"Yes, you _should_," Kiyone shot back. "Your kidou is some of the best in our division, and maybe you don't notice, but everyone really looks up to you. Even Taichou said he'd pay you out of his pocket if you tutored some of the less talented members—and he was referring to the seated members! Besides, haven't you realized that _Yamada_ _Hanatarou_ from 4th Division is above you in rank? He's a seventh seat! If he gave you an order you'd have to obey it!"

"He's in a different division."

"He's a seated officer!"

Rukia groaned.

"Seriously," Kiyone continued, "everybody knows you're more than capable. Well, everyone except your brother apparently, since he's the one with the leash around your neck."

"My brother does not have a leash around my neck," Rukia retorted.

Kiyone crossed her arms. "Oh yeah? Then why did Taichou tell me how you've been banned from promotion? Your brother went around making _sure_ you could never progress in your career! Tell me that isn't a leash. Who knew Kuchiki Byakuya could get so paranoid?"

"My brother is not paranoid. He has a promise to keep and he's too busy to look after me himself."

Kiyone made a face. "You're a grown _woman_. You know how to fight. He doesn't need to babysit you like some Academy student and it's not like the boys are knocking down your door. Even if you haven't scared most of them off already, they sure as hell don't want to mess with your big brother. It's really not that dangerous."

Rukia sighed. "I think he meant the missions."

Kiyone blinked. "Oh. Well…even they're not that dangerous. It's not like we ask our fifth seats to take on the Menos Grande, and seriously, what's the worst that could happen? Getting trapped into extra paperwork because someone still hasn't found a lieutenant to help out on his sick days?"

"You just said you third seats take care of that anyway."

"We could still use some help," Kiyone mused. "And what's not to like? We'd see each other more often, you'd get a pay raise—not that you need it, I'm sure—and you'd replace one of the morons like fifth or eleventh that I've been dying to get rid of."

"Charming."

"Anyway, you'd be working around a whole new group, and not just from our division," Kiyone said, picking up her pen. "Maybe then someone would be lucky enough to capture your attention. Someone who's more than just a cabbage at the supermarket."

Rukia smiled.

Even though it came off sounding like a lecture, it was a tremendous ego booster to hear a superior's praise, even if that superior was her favorite girlfriend. But as good as it was to hear Kiyone's confidence in her, it wasn't the real reason for her excitement. She was still riding off the high she'd been on since finding out that she might be getting her hands on one adorable Chappy plush in the very near future. Nii-sama would just have to bear a little discomfort after finding out the SWA had finally nabbed him. And of course, he would never know of Rukia's involvement. It was perfect.

Kiyone was right…Rukia really was evil.

She couldn't _wait_.

* * *

Byakuya leaned back as he studied the open letter before him. There was no declaration of battle-to-end-all-battles yet, although at this point he wished there was.

Effective immediately, a new training regiment was to be administered to the Gotei 13. There had been similar orders in recent months, ones that increased weekly training requirements and upped the rates at which applicants were accepted. This time there was to be a series of training sessions to expose trainees to different styles of combat and better unify the Gotei 13 as a whole. Once a week, shinigami would train under other captains and these groups would be rotated for the next six months.

At this point Byakuya was confronted with a somewhat odd matching system.

_Division Pairs:_

_1 2_

_3 4_

_5 6_

_7 8_

_9 10_

_11 12_

_13_

Instead of having the 1st Division paired with 2nd and so on, plus one trio, each pair was connected with a long diagonal line, so that 2nd Division was with the 7th, 4th was with the 9th, and 6th…

…was with the _11th_.

Byakuya shuddered, although whether it was from revulsion or rage at the humor of the powers above, he didn't know. Did the captain-general honestly think that anything remotely significant would be accomplished by putting Kuchiki Byakuya in charge of Zaraki's 11th Division brutes and vice versa?

Then he narrowed his eyes as he noticed that the line below his paired the 8th and 13th Divisions. The divisions whose captains were best friends, Gotei 13 old timers, and often treated like they were the captain-general's own sons…which in certain situations could mean special treatment.

Damn that Kyouraku and Ukitake…

Stone-faced despite his contempt, Byakuya refolded the letter. He would have no trouble at all in dealing with Zaraki's lot. There was nothing quite like the threat of a thousand blades to make those unruly Eleveners shut up so quickly. He contented himself with the fact that Rukia would be in the care of Ukitake and Kyouraku, whose workouts would be mostly harmless outside of the 8th captain's alcohol-induced antics.

It occurred to him then that Rukia would not take part in the training.

That is, if the proposal went through. Nothing was in stone, but the fact that Fudo approached him first thing in the morning said a lot. Byakuya wasn't sure what to think. Rukia worked hard and took her duties seriously, but family duties were no different from work related ones, and if she was called to it, Soul Society law dictated that in the special case of noble families, the family would take priority.

He wouldn't tell her the news. Nothing had been confirmed, and the last thing he wanted to do was distract his sister from her duties at hand. It was just another irritation nagging at the back of his mind…but even so, he couldn't shake the feeling that something big was going to unfold in the coming weeks.

Regardless, if this went through, Rukia was going to be in for a big surprise.

* * *

Nii-sama was going to be in for a big surprise.

For the rest of the day Rukia couldn't think of anything but the deal, and when she finally managed to finish her load, she was raring to face dinner headfirst and get it over with once and for all. She returned home and promptly went looking for Yuu, but hardly passed three rooms before she stumbled upon her brother. He was seated at a low table, reading and having tea in a room overlooking the courtyard. The sight warmed her. Nii-sama was so precious to her that if it weren't for his icy shell and cold demeanor she would have run over and hugged him in a heartbeat. The pang of affection that squeezed in her heart right then made her smile.

Then that smile died as she was hit with a cold, albeit belated, realization.

_I just agreed to help sneak pictures of Nii-sama for the SWA photobook._

Her Nii-sama. The man with the icy shell and cold demeanor who was one of the most feared and respected shinigami in Soul Society. The man who once unleashed his bankai on a harmless swimming pool the SWA had created in one of his backyards and then unabashedly tried to lock them up in their own headquarters. The man who stared back as she gaped at him naked in the shower.

Oh, Nii-sama was going to be in for a big surprise…_if_ she didn't chicken out first.

Before she had the presence of mind to stop staring and move on, however, Byakuya looked up. Rukia twitched like she'd been struck by a taser.

"Er…good afternoon…Nii-sama!"

"Good afternoon."

Rukia paused. It would be weird if he caught her staring at him only for her to run away immediately after, wouldn't it? He was clearly waiting for her to say something, but she didn't know if there even was anything to say. But he was waiting, and Rukia felt her face heat as she stared back at him wordlessly.

_Oh heck_, Rukia thought, _you've never been this awkward around him before!_

She stepped into the room and attempted an apologetic smile. "Uh, how was your day?"

He didn't answer as quickly as she would have liked. When he did, it was quiet, in a way that made her feel he wasn't all there.

"…It was fine."

Rukia frowned. "Did something happen?" But even if anything was wrong, he wasn't going to tell her. In fact, his only _issue_ was probably that he didn't want to talk to her.

But Byakuya just gave her a faint shake of his head. "There is nothing to worry about."

That made her worry more. But before Rukia could point out that she _hadn't_ said there was anything to worry about, Byakuya snapped his book shut and plucked the teapot from the table. He filled the spare cup and nudged it toward her.

One minute he was giving her a cold shoulder, and the next he wanted to sit with her for tea? Perhaps she was overanalyzing him and he wasn't avoiding her at all…but he'd been so cold the past few days that it felt awkward joining him for something as simple as tea. Nevertheless, Rukia entered and knelt on the tatami beside him. "Thank you, Nii-sama."

He didn't say anything to that, so Rukia sipped her tea in silence.

Damn…she was certain there was still guilt written on her face. Somehow he'd look at her and immediately know what she was up to. She was afraid he'd already caught wind, despite the fact that it would've been impossible for him to have caught on miles away from a private meeting between two girls at a humble coffee shop.

But despite his invitation to join him, he was being quiet—too quiet. She wondered if she should dig around to find out what was bothering him before he suddenly asked, "Is Ukitake still willing to pay you to tutor kidou?"

It was such a random question that she sort of laughed—something she didn't do often in front of this man. "I suppose…though I thought it was a joke…"

The ghost of a smile worked its way onto his face, although Rukia was too busy deciding between the nori and the rice crackers to register it. She chose a senbei wrapped in nori and crunched on it before asking, "Are you looking to do the same for your division?" She paused. "I mean, for Renji?"

"No. He is already hopeless."

Rukia smiled. "I guess in some ways he will always be a member of the 11th."

Byakuya frowned, although that too passed without Rukia noticing. He sipped his tea before asking, "How are your duties at the 13th?" which in the language of Kuchiki Byakuya meant, "How are you today?"

Rukia smiled to herself as she recounted her day, more to pass the time than out of any real interest in what she'd done. She was careful to leave out Chappy, though—no doubt he would've been thrilled about that. She had just reached the part where Kiyone discussed promotions when Byakuya set down his tea.

"You will not be promoted to a seated position," he said.

"I know," Rukia said quickly. "I told her. Even if I could, I'm not skilled enough to deserve a seat anyway."

While her kidou abilities were top-notch, her sword wielding skills left something to be desired. Part of it was that, with her size, she didn't have a hope in hell when it came to matching the boys for strength. No matter how well she developed her zanjutsu, Ichigo and Nii-sama would always be stronger. At least with kidou she'd been able to hone her skills far past those of everyone around her, but as always, Nii-sama was still better.

Usually this kind of competition would turn her green with envy. But with Nii-sama, all she could do was gaze at him starry-eyed and admire him more. Though that in itself was probably a little unusual…

"I do not doubt you are capable of holding a seat under Ukitake," Byakuya said. "But there are duties undertaken by officers which I would rather you not take part in."

He didn't need to be concerned. She'd long decided that being seated wasn't all that important. Yes, she would have _liked_ to have held a seat, if only to make him proud, but she would not disregard her brother's wishes. She could deal with a seating ban, despite her inclination to reach for the top, because that was what he wanted.

She couldn't, however, deal with being weak. And the more she was inadvertently rescued by Ichigo or Renji or Nii-sama, the more she realized she _was_ weak. Idly she wondered if she was letting her skills stagnate because she knew she would never move anywhere and the boys always had her back. It didn't matter how hard she worked to defend herself—Nii-sama would always jump in and save the day.

There must have been something about that, combined with the way Kiyone had brought it up that bothered her, because when she looked at him her brow knit and her fingers clenched around her tea.

"Yamada Hanatarou is a seated officer," she said before she could stop herself. "If he were to give me an order…would I have to obey it?"

Byakuya looked nonplussed. "He is in a different division."

"I know," she said, annoyed that he'd given the same excuse she'd given Kiyone earlier. "But what if there were no other officers, or if we were stranded together on the battlefield? If it came down to it…would I have to take orders from him?"

She almost expected him to say, "Fourth Division doesn't count," but when he replied it was without hesitation.

"Yes, if that were the case."

Picture that: Kuchiki Rukia, running around on Hanatarou's every whim. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"Fourth Division is different, however," Byakuya continued, unaware of the tragic scenario playing in her head. "Their purposes are not for battle, nor military strategy. The boy is a medic, not a tactician. It would depend entirely on the situation."

So only if he ordered her to haul his medical supplies to and fro? That didn't seem much better…

"Why do you ask?"

Rukia bit her lip and stared at the steam spiraling gently from her bowl. She didn't want to talk about this. Not with Nii-sama. But he was waiting, and as the silence began to draw unnaturally long she realized she didn't have much choice. "I guess…I feel like I'm stagnating," she murmured, hoping he wouldn't hear her.

He did, because he sighed and set down his tea. "I have only heard of your improvement," he replied loftily. "Ukitake-taichou is always honest with me."

There was a compliment in there somewhere, but for some reason it only annoyed her. He had to have known what she meant.

"I always get saved by you or Ichigo," she continued, and deep in her proud heart the admission felt like some kind of defeat. She hated letting the one person she respected so much see her in such pitiful estate. "And not just at Soukyoku," she muttered, citing the only real excusable exception. "Even in Karakura, and Hueco Mundo…"

"Those were extenuating circumstances," he said simply.

Her fingers tightened around the ceramic. "It doesn't matter."

And it didn't. Because until she could give him a reason to be pleased with her—to be _proud_ of her, dare she ask that of him—she felt like deadweight, just another worrisome detail in his already hectic life.

"You are singling out exceptions," Byakuya noted, and with a note of finality he raised the ceramic to his lips. "There are many achievements you have reached of your own accord."

Rukia shook her head.

"When I was adopted, you had me graduate immediately from the Shinou Academy without finishing my courses," she said, her gaze on the table. "You had me placed in the 13th Division without taking the required entrance exam and I was immediately made Kiyone's assistant. Yet even at the Academy, Renji teased me for falling behind…and today he is the only lieutenant who has achieved bankai." Her voice grew quieter until she whispered, "I don't think I could earn a seat of my own right even if I wanted."

She felt him pause. Then he put down his tea.

"Perhaps we could arrange a skirmish before dinner."

Rukia looked up. "What?"

He glanced at her with those lovely, dark eyes, and despite the fact that she'd just spilt her deepest insecurities to the man she admired more than anyone, it was only now that he was looking at her that she felt so exposed.

"It has been a while since I have seen you practice," he murmured.

Actually, it had been decades since he'd taken her for a scuffle. When she first joined the Gotei 13, he occasionally supervised her on the Kuchiki grounds, though she'd always suspected it was to make sure she didn't lay waste to his precious bellflowers. Since then they hadn't trained once together. While she had obviously improved over the years, she didn't think it merited an audience from Nii-sama himself. The idea of practicing right now was almost as absurd as the Chappy ordeal.

By this point, however, Byakuya had left his seat and was reaching for the door. Rukia felt a rush of panic and scrambled to her feet.

"Wait!"

He paused, turning just enough to look at her.

"Right now?" she breathed. She couldn't quite believe he wanted to spar in the middle of an afternoon tea.

Byakuya turned toward her expectantly. "Is there a problem?"

_Why _yes_ there is!_ The fiery, louder voice in her wanted to say. Byakuya plus tea did not equal fighting time, and besides, she didn't exactly feel like showcasing her weaknesses before having her self-worth trampled again by the Taira. But instead she settled for a meek and respectful, "It's just sudden," and as she stammered she found she couldn't really look him in the eye.

"I mean, there's dinner…" she said, feeling extraordinarily lame.

"We have time."

"I'm sure you are busy, Nii-sama…"

"I was drinking tea."

"But it might rain…"

"Rukia," he said, turning full to face her. "We will go outside and practice."

Okay…she couldn't argue that.

Rukia picked up her zanpakutou and followed him out. True to her word, the sky was clouding over, and a few drops of rain dampened her skin. But unless there was a full scale thunderstorm on the way, which would have been dangerous with a sky full of Senbonzakura, Nii-sama seemed adamant that they practice right away.

She felt nervous and excited at once. She wanted to prove her worth, to show him how much she could do…but she knew she was nothing compared with this man. He was Captain Kuchiki Byakuya, in his prime and at the top of his career. She was, well, Kuchiki Rukia. There wasn't much she could do to impress him.

Ten paces away, Byakuya turned to face her.

"We won't use kidou," he said, drawing his blade and holding it lightly in front of him. "We will only use zanjutsu."

Rukia nodded. It would be pointless to practice her strengths, even if it made her look better. That, and Nii-sama probably didn't want to ruin his lawn…

She reached for her sword feeling antsy with anticipation, but as soon as she felt the familiar hilt her insecurities subsided. Sode no Shirayuki was a steel, calming presence no matter her opponent. Even the formidable Senbonzakura didn't faze the beautiful ice zanpakutou. Rukia raised her sword and felt the soul of her blade hum in agreement.

_I'm ready._

Byakuya moved and in the next second he was before her. Instinct had Rukia swinging her blade before she saw it coming, knocking back his first strike and opening him up for her own. Several swift exchanges were marked by the metallic clips of their blades, each set followed by a brief intermittent silence. He followed her closely, his sharp eyes watching her every move.

For some reason it made her uncomfortable. She'd never felt particularly comfortable under his critical gaze, but she hadn't been forced to meet his eyes since that night in the bath. Since then she'd been avoiding his gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes lest the embarrassment come flooding back. Now, she had to look at him.

He had no problem watching her though. He was driving the offensive using swift, precise cuts, watching her with the intensity of a hawk. She raised her blade to push back at his advance, but it was impossible to fight without looking at him. She ducked away to break his gaze but gave him an opening instead, allowing him to knock her back. She landed on one knee.

Rukia rushed him again, throwing a hard swing when she lost her footing. Her sandal caught and then she was airborne, and in the next second she was smacking into a hard surface face first on her feet. She opened her eyes.

She was tucked up against him, her blade dangling safely beside her, her body flush against his as one strong arm trapped her close. He'd caught her by the waist in a one-armed embrace, and now she was pressed up against his hard body with her face in his chest, so close that she could taste his scent. Her eyes widened.

_Awkward!_

"Sorry," she mumbled, quickly extricating herself from his grip. He released her and stepped back, waiting for her to regain her composure. But as soon as Rukia had freed herself, she felt too distinctly aware of the chilly spring air.

_What was that about being unhuggable?_

Rukia shook her head. "I could have impaled you," she muttered distractedly.

"Not like that, you wouldn't," Byakuya said. "Your swing was too wide."

_Ah…_

This time Byakuya waited for Rukia to move first. She darted in, taking advantage of her shorter stature to surprise him with a low cut. He crossed it easily, sparing his shins and leaving her entire body vulnerable. She retreated and within seconds they were locked together again, blades grappling for dominance. They were so close that she could see her reflection in his half-lidded eyes. He stared right back, unreadable as ever.

Then there was the brandish of steel on steel as Senbonzakura slid off Sode no Shirayuki. Byakuya cut down from above and Rukia narrowly blocked it, supporting the steel with both hands to counter his greater strength. With a hard shove she jumped back and landed a few feet away. This time she couldn't help but shift her gaze to the arm that had just been wrapped around her.

He could've let her fall. He could have watched her fall flat on her face and waited unamused for her to get up again. In fact, that would have been expected. But he didn't. He held her.

Then, out of idle curiosity, she wondered…what if she tried tripping again?

Rukia inwardly cursed as she blocked his incoming blow. She had to stop thinking about this. It hadn't been any different from Kiyone's one-armed embrace earlier, and in both cases it had been a show of support. But the move had been so uncharacteristic that she couldn't help but dissect it over and over, and Rukia realized that maybe she was insane enough to think tripping again wouldn't be such a bad idea.

_Just to see what would happen._

Of course.

_Nothing more than that.  
_

Of course not.

In her split second of wondering otherwise, there was the empty swish of her blade on air and Nii-sama was gone without having used shunpo.

"You're open."

Before Rukia could blink, her brother was behind her, the flat of his blade resting gently like a dove upon her shoulder.

Nii-sama was a scary opponent. She knew he would never put a scratch on her, but for anyone else, his cold persona and flawless technique would have been positively frightening. Despite the speed of his swing, the blade graced her shoulder—he could put in an honest fight and was still skilled enough to let her walk away unscathed. Yet she knew that if she had been a real enemy, she would have found herself missing her head at that moment.

She was incredibly lucky to have such a protective man watching over her…

"That's enough for today," Byakuya said, and Senbonzakura disappeared into its sheath. "Dinner begins in an hour. Be ready to leave at the front entrance. Fudo will be coming, as well."

Rukia sheathed her sword. It seemed silly to avoid meeting his eyes after he'd helped her, so she looked up at him, eyes bright. "Thank you for practicing with me, Nii-sama."

"You did well," he stated.

Now that surprised her. At first she thought it was a joke, but then, this was Nii-sama. He didn't joke outside of some rumor Renji had started wherein he'd told the hapless lieutenant that he cut his hair with Senbonzakura. Even then it was more likely Renji had been drunk off his ass, because Nii-sama didn't joke. But he also didn't hand out compliments for the sake of it. He must have meant it at least a little.

Rukia felt her face heat and immediately ducked into a bow. "Thank you, Nii-sama."

Instead of leaving like she expected, Byakuya turned and faced her. "Why did you refuse?"

Rukia blinked. "Refuse?"

"You refused three times," Byakuya said, looking almost confused himself. "First about dinner, then with tea…then something about the weather."

Oh…that.

Rukia felt her face grow hot.

Why had she refused? Sure, it was sudden, but it was still Nii-sama. She shouldn't have been afraid of what he might say, or what he might see. But maybe that was it? At first she thought it was because she didn't want to look weak in front of him, but maybe it was something else entirely. Although she realized that, in refusing, she probably looked weak in an entirely different way…and one she wasn't comfortable with seeing exposed at all.

Rukia looked away. "Like I said, it was sudden," she told him. "I wasn't expecting it."

It was the truth, but it still felt like a cover-up.

"I see."

She wasn't sure he believed her.

He made to leave, but Rukia intercepted him with another apology. "Nii-sama, I am sorry if I offended you with my disrespectful behavior. It was rude of me to refuse so vehemently after you kindly offered to help. It will not happen again."

For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something. Then he turned away.

"I encourage you to continue training up your zanjutsu," he said quietly, "despite any discouraging circumstances you may find yourself in, either now or in the future."

Rukia stared at the insignia on his back, suddenly feeling uncertain. She must have given him some poor impressions for him to say such things. Did he really think she would quit so easily? That something as trivial as a seating ban would dissuade her from training as hard as she could?

If that was the case, he was sorely mistaken.

"Nii-sama, if I have behaved in a manner that has given you doubts, I apologize," Rukia ground out. Byakuya turned and they locked eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Rukia didn't falter under his gaze. "I will never give up or relinquish my place in the line of duty."

Something flickered in his dark eyes, and Rukia wished she could decipher something, anything of what might lay behind them. Pride? Hope? Indifference? Pain? She dared to hope he would deny any doubts, or nod in awe of her dedication and resolve. But he didn't do either. He turned, and in the wake of his leaving trail she wished he would have at least _acknowledged_ her determination. But he didn't, and there was nothing to be said.

Tired, sore, and wishing she could plop into the nearest futon and nap for the next hundred years, Rukia trailed after him. Next on the agenda was to find Yuu and prepare for that dreaded outing. Rukia followed him in, expecting the same cold shoulder he'd given her yesterday. But as she headed to her room she took one last glance at him…and to her surprise, she found him looking at her in return.

They both looked away.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but at some point during their fight or tea or their confrontation afterward, his behavior changed again. Yes, he acted like he was ignoring her, but then she'd catch him paying more attention than she would ever expect. Rukia tried not to think about it as she wandered to her room. There were more important things to worry about than Nii-sama's indecipherable behavior, and trying to figure out his capricious conduct would only run her mind in circles.

It was probably just her imagination anyway.


	5. Indifferent Hues

_I've been watching you closely_

_Every move that you make_

_And all the things you've showed to me_

_Are getting harder to take_

_I wish we could begin from the start_

* * *

It had been unintentional.

When Rukia slipped, Byakuya's first reaction was _to protect_. His very instinct was to protect her, whether it be from an enemy blade or her own clumsiness, and the sight of her falling on empty air triggered that response. But Rukia was far from clumsy. He was certain she would have managed to catch herself, had she been given the chance. Yet despite this fact, he intervened. He reacted the only way he could, and then she landed in his arms, and if she was going to have to land anywhere other than on her own two feet, that was it. If she hadn't literally jumped out of his grip afterward, he would have held on a moment longer.

But only for a moment.

Byakuya made his way to his room as he considered their spar. She wielded her blade with considerable skill, despite her lack of faith in her own ability. Yes, she needed work, but Rukia was being particularly hard on herself. And Rukia didn't think she could get a seat? The reason Byakuya prevented any promotion in the first place was because he knew that if he didn't step in, someone else would, and Rukia would find herself promoted to a position that could put her in some risky situations.

But there was another reason why he'd taken her out, one that came after hearing Fudo's proposal. He wanted to test her. He wanted to see whether she would bend her will in the face of relentless attack or crumble beneath the weight of his expectations. He wanted to see what Rukia would do.

She gave him a sharp look and a firm word that she would never abandon her calling, no matter the circumstances.

Strangely, though, he wasn't sure those were the words he wanted to hear. Usually that kind of declaration of duty would be just what he wanted to hear. But if her avowal to duty was confronted with another exacting duty?

The words were right, but the situation was wrong. He didn't want Rukia to make a declaration like that only to be forced to go back on her word.

Once at his room, Byakuya removed Senbonzakura and shrugged off his haori. Dinner was a token gesture, a thank you to the Kuchiki for entertaining them last time. There would be gift exchanges, tributes and all manner of pretense at politeness, because for two famous blue blood aristocrats, pretense was a social requirement. But dinner would also be the prime time for Taira to make his move, and not just the one about historical records. Fudo's foresight was as good as any. If he thought a proposal was going to happen, it was probably going to happen.

Byakuya's hand tensed on his haori. Then he released it.

It was not his concern whether Rukia was arranged to marry another man. This was noble law. There would be no broken rules, no breached obligations, and in the meantime he was to be on the lookout for an eventual partner too.

His hand tightened even more.

Then Byakuya berated himself for jumping to conclusions. There had only been the beginnings of a proposition laid out by his advisor and no word at all from the Taira. There was the chance that this would go forgotten and nothing would pass, and Rukia would be under his watch as always.

Consoling himself with that thought, he unfastened his kenseikan and set them down when he noticed a scroll on his desk. Byakuya frowned as he picked it up and loosened the crimson tassel.

Fudo had done the calculations. The Shihouin clan didn't have a suitable heir. The Shiba had long fallen. There were lower noble families like the Oomaeda and the Kira, but they didn't present the same opportunities. This was perfect, like Fudo said, and Rukia's unseated position only echoed the idea that she would be more useful in satisfying family interests than working active duty in the Gotei 13.

Byakuya slammed it away in his drawer. He was becoming more and more bothered with every reminder, and handling the first physical evidence of a partnership for Rukia bothered him more than when the entire idea had been thrown unexpectedly in his face.

In fact, the more he thought about this marriage, the more he didn't like it at all.

Technically he could refuse, and Byakuya had many times used his influence to get his own way. Still, it wasn't the wisest thing to do. His advisor wasn't exaggerating when he hinted that refusing this marriage would be like chopping off his right arm. For one, his own family seemed to approve, so it would be left to Byakuya alone to defend his case against the Taira and the Kuchiki. Excusing Rukia from marriage on the grounds that he didn't like Taira would not pass for politically savvy, no matter how it was approached, and the last thing Byakuya needed was to go around putting bees in the bonnets of other noble lords. But Rukia was no bartering chip like his advisor was making her out to be. She was his sister and a Kuchiki, and Byakuya would ensure that she be treated as such.

And that meant that she would only marry a man of high caliber who had the social graces and character and sophistication to match hers. Rukia needed someone who would look after her properly, someone who was truly worthy of her…a man who would be willing to lay down his life for her, if called to it.

He still had yet to find that man, irritatingly enough, but there was time. Well, as much time as it took for this proposal to be set into motion.

Byakuya sighed. He needed this bath. Without second thought he took a towel and stepped into his bathroom when the memory hit him like a truck.

She was in his bathroom, running her hands over her body, incognizant of him standing there as she caressed her damp milky skin in a way that made his blood burn and his hands tingle. The shock of the scene had imprinted on his mind, and right now he was living the memory of a naked Rukia as easily as if she was there all over again. In an instant his debatably innocent memory seemed so very…_erotic._

Byakuya banished the thought and easily—too easily—replaced the image with Hisana.

His wife was standing there instead, and this, at least, was appropriate. Of course, thinking of his wife like that began to turn into something else…but as tempting as that was, she was long dead, and it didn't do to think of dead loved ones for one's pleasure. He couldn't think of Hisana that way without the pain of heartache.

Inexplicably, Rukia popped into his head again.

Then, as if all his thoughts schemed to torment him at once, he imagined another man walking in on her. Specifically he imagined _Taira_.

How dare anyone lay eyes on his sister like that? No man would ever see Rukia in that state without some serious screening and a few death threats and a personality test and an interview and maybe a written examination for approval on Byakuya's behalf, and trust him there were _few and far between_ who would ever pass that test, and Taira was not one of them. In fact, Byakuya only trusted himself on this matter. Only he could have walked in on something like that and allowed his mind to remain at an appropriate level despite his strong male instincts. Only he was allowed to walk in on her like that, and only he could walk in and not fall prey to some lustful fit that other men so easily succumbed to.

Yet at the same time…it bothered him that the first thing he'd thought of was _her_ when he walked into his bathroom.

And that he'd stood there and thought about her longer than was necessary.

And that he was claiming in his mind that only he was allowed to walk in on her naked, as if he had the right to.

And that he was still thinking about this. Thinking about naked Rukia and breaching obligations and emasculating Taira and…naked Rukia.

Clearly he needed to see to it that he search for a wife because this was getting out of control. He growled to himself as he flung a towel over his shoulder and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

Dinner.

When it came to the Taira name, Rukia found the word wasn't quite so appetizing. She wasn't looking forward to it in the least.

In fact, she was dreading it. Last time her reputation had been on the line, mostly because of the tea incident that just so happened to be with the one person she would be forced to sit across from that very evening. She wasn't sure how she managed to stay under the radar, but she was sure that unless that stupid advisor had miraculously gone senile, some awkward conversation about rebellious upstart adoptees was sure to worm itself back into the conversation again.

At least her bathroom was functional now, Rukia noted with some relief. She would never have to go through any more embarrassing bath incidents again.

Although…if it had to happen, better Nii-sama than anyone else. At least she could trust him to be respectful about it. Other guys might stare and drool and have embarrassing reactions, but Nii-sama was too noble to do any such thing. (In theory. She did have some sort of memory of him roving his eyes over her before quickly looking away…but that was probably inevitable. He'd unsuspectingly walked into his own bath, after all.)

Then Rukia stopped dead. Nii-sama? Better than anyone else? There wasn't any good in him walking in on her at all!

Huffing, she flung a towel over her shoulder and slammed the door behind her.

A hot shower and a short soak later, she emerged from her bathroom to find Yuu already in her room, being swallowed beneath an ocean of fine fabric. "Wow, Yuu," she said, a wry smile on her lips. "You didn't need to yank out the entire wardrobe."

"But there are so many pretty choices!"

Rukia wasn't choosy; she picked a pastel floral one to match the early spring. It took fifteen minutes for Yuu and the old dressing lady to get her finished—fantastically speedy in the way of the kimono. When Rukia looked at herself, she was startled by her reflection. She wore a pale apricot kimono complete with a white obi and rose-colored cord knotted delicately at the front. It was impossible to tell she'd just been out back having a sweaty workout session with her brother.

Unfortunately it seemed that the times she would look the most beautiful would be the times that only nasty old men would be watching her. Such a shame…

When Rukia reached the front hall, Byakuya was already there. He wore a pale blue kimono and a darker colored coat, with his hair in the kenseikan and the windflower scarf draped around his shoulders. He looked dashing as always, but that was to be expected. Like her, there was not a single indication that he'd just been working out.

"We will head out in a moment," he said, surveying her briefly. "Fudo will be with us shortly."

He turned abruptly and faced the window. Wondering if something was happening outside to steal his attention like that, Rukia took a step closer.

Byakuya moved away, then pulled a slip of paper from the breast of his kimono and started reading.

Rukia felt distinctly shunned. He'd been fine and social and damn well staring at her during their practice, but now he was busying himself in a way that felt entirely too purposeful. She wasn't sure what had changed in forty-five minutes, but she reasoned that if he was deliberately distracting himself to avoid her, he probably didn't want to be around her. Given this harsh reaction, she wondered if he really was disappointed in her, despite their brief exchange.

For one, he never answered her that night she'd fallen asleep on the porch. She asked if he was angry. He never bothered to respond.

Then there was that first dinner when he acted like she didn't exist. She knew things turned sour after the bath, but that was days ago. He shouldn't still be acting weird…right?

Either he was disappointed in her or he was still bothered that he'd walked in. She wasn't sure which it was, but his turned back wasn't offering any answers.

Rukia bit her lip.

"Nii-sama," she began, unsure of what to say. But before she could continue, Fudo appeared.

"I hope I have not kept you waiting," he intoned. "Shall we?"

Rukia bit back a bitter retort and followed them without a word.

At first she took her place beside her brother, forcing herself to move faster to match his longer strides. Then, after a long awkward moment where she suspected he was trying to outpace her, she drifted back and let Fudo take the spot beside him.

She stared, trying to pick up on any signals in his behavior. She knew this was one surefire way to drive herself insane, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off between them. He was walking too fast, for one thing—not the way one attended a friendly dinner invite, even if they weren't all that friendly. His stride was driven, but unfocused—it was as if he was physically walking but mentally on another plane. He looked stiff, and while it was often claimed that Kuchiki Byakuya walked with a stick up his ass—something Rukia always shot down—he just seemed like…well, he had a stick up his ass.

Except that now she realized she had the perfect view for observing his broad shoulders and trim waist and aforementioned assets, just as she'd done yesterday.

What was wrong with her? She'd never made it a habit to ogle men's rears or anything else her treacherous eyeballs were aching to do. She tried to focus on the upcoming dinner that night, but that thought wasn't helping anything at all.

Bothered, Rukia decided to stare at Fudo's scalp. It wasn't a particularly noteworthy sight, but at this point she was willing to look at anything to get her eyes and mind off him. But if she couldn't even look at her brother now, how in the hell was she going to sneak photos of him and win her precious Chappy?

No…she'd find a way. _This is Chappy we're talking about._

It took far too long, in Rukia's opinion, to reach their destination. She really must have been doing her best to avoid looking at him, because when Byakuya stopped, Rukia didn't notice. She plowed right into him, and caught unexpected, she threw her hands out to prevent herself from falling.

She ended up falling anyway. The only thing she managed to do was accidentally grope him in the process.

Evidently this was karma's punishment for staring at Nii-sama's backside the whole way there.

Byakuya turned and Rukia cringed hard. That got him looking—maybe she should have goosed him sooner? But in all seriousness her face flamed, and she found herself embarrassed once more as she groveled in the dirt before her esteemed older brother. She didn't need him to remind her like a five-year-old child to watch where she was going.

"Are you alright?"

"Sorry, I was not paying attention," she muttered, clutching her nose.

"That is not what I asked."

"Sorry, I…what?"

Rukia looked up. To her surprise, he didn't look annoyed. He looked…curious. He probably wondered what was causing her so many slip-ups, because today she was stealing Hanatarou's title as number one most embarrassing shinigami klutz. She clambered to her feet, dusting off her kimono to avoid eye contact.

"Yes, I'm alright."

_Not really. Not really at all._

His gaze lasted a moment longer. Then he faced forward again.

"We are here," Fudo said.

Rukia sighed as they were let in through the gate. Oh, how she would rather be at Ichigo's sucking on juice boxes and poring over last year's magazines…

Then the man himself was there, greeting them from his doorway. He wore a striking kimono of gold and orange and a grey coat that didn't do much for his belly; compared with Nii-sama, he looked like a sorry imitation of a bumblebee. Then she saw Denbei, whose face resembled shriveled up umeboshi the moment he laid eyes on her.

She'd been hoping that somehow over the past two days he'd gone senile. But apparently that was too much to ask.

Rukia opted for a prayer instead.

_Please oh please let Aizen's gang of zombie miscreants kidnap me and take me to another dimension like they did with Inoue._

Unfortunately she no longer had the Hougyoku, and since there wasn't any reason for Aizen to kidnap her that didn't involve some fantasy that was either creepy or just plain disturbing, she abandoned the idea as a moot one.

Condemning herself to another lovely evening in the dumps, Rukia sidled in behind Byakuya and Fudo, hoping to ghost behind them as long as possible. She trailed after them until they reached the dining room where the wafting scent smelled altogether too tempting. Rukia didn't believe her nose.

Then she saw the food.

Okay…maybe dinner would be appetizing after all.

Not to be outdone, Taira decided to throw a party for an army. The table was sprawling with beef steaks and chilled wasabi, soft-shelled crab wrapped in hijiki, mussels served with coriander and all the sides she could dream of. Despite her size, Rukia could eat a horse. Naturally she didn't spend every hour of the day snacking on rice crackers, but after especially vigorous workouts her voracious appetite could be enough to swallow Oomaeda-fukutaichou whole.

And she'd just come out of a sparring session! Perfect excuse to eat like a pig! (With class, of course.)

There was a bit of talk beforehand, but Rukia spent most of this time drooling at the table. She hoped the food tasted as good as it looked because right now Rukia was starving. If these people didn't drop the chitchat soon, she might have started gnawing on the closest thing to her, which would have been unfortunate for Nii-sama.

Finally everyone took their places, the staff hands bowed, and at last Rukia's fantasy dinner commenced.

By some stroke of luck, she ended up sitting across from Nii-sama. She was glad for the improved company. It was better this way, so long as she wasn't shocked with a mouthful of tea…

Just as the thought crossed her mind, Denbei turned to her. "Care for some tea, Kuchiki Rukia?"

It sounded like an innocent question, and had it been anyone else Rukia would have gladly accepted. But the leer on the man's face told her otherwise. He was never going to let her live it down, and by the way he so snidely popped the question, she knew he had every intention of reminding her.

"No thank you," she muttered, snatching up a platter of crab to occupy her attention. Before she could react, Denbei snatched her cup.

"Oh, but I _insist."_

Rukia watched haplessly as the man served her her tea. He poured the liquid with excruciating care, commanding her attention for far too long as the steaming liquid dribbled into her cup. After what felt like an entire minute, he eased up and set the teapot down.

"There you go," he drawled, pushing the porcelain toward her just as deliberately.

Rukia stared at the cup as if it had been filled with snakes.

_This man…_

"Are you not going to thank me?"

Byakuya glanced at their surreptitious interaction. Rukia's gaze flicked up to blankly stare at the man.

"You should…_mind your manners_, Kuchiki Rukia."

…_reminds me of Gin._

Then he joined the conversation like nothing happened. Rukia stared at him, unnerved by the sheer audacity of his behavior. After that entire display, he was talking to the others like they never interacted. At least that meant he would leave her alone. He couldn't make his point clearer than that. But before she could mind her own business, their eyes locked.

"How is the tea, dear?"

_Damn him._

Rukia fought the urge to hide. She wanted to make the best of an evening she didn't want to endure, but this man was going out of his way to make her uncomfortable. The worst part was that they both knew she couldn't retaliate. Judging by his smug expression, this pleased him greatly.

Avoiding his further attention, Rukia looked at her brother. She wondered if sitting face-to-face would make him unable to avoid her, but as expected, he didn't seem to see her at all. He paid her no mind, slurping soba and enjoying some red dish she wasn't sure she should try. He collected a piece of this spicy food and brought it to his mouth, and she watched the food disappear into that mouth and wondered that he didn't need any water.

Then his eyes met hers.

Rukia quickly looked away and accidentally caught Taira's gaze instead. He looked her over appreciatively before saying, "I should have mentioned this the moment I laid eyes on you, but you look lovely, my dear."

A stick of julienned ginger twitched between her chopsticks. Byakuya twitched. And she was pretty certain that Denbei and even Fudo twitched, for god knew why.

Boy, Rukia had to love the dynamics of this company.

Eventually the table was cleared and replaced with hot sake and snacks. The advisors drifted off somewhere into their own private conversation and Rukia was left with Nii-sama and Taira and a whole lot of boredom. She would have started her sixth plate if the dishes had been left, but instead she opted for taste testing each of the snacks. She was lucky she had such a high metabolism…

"You are very quiet," Taira said.

"Mmgh," she garbled around a mouthful of sweet omelette. Did he have to start talking to her now? She was really enjoying this tamagoyaki…

"It seems this is your first time here," he continued. "What do you make of it?"

Rukia swallowed. "It's lovely," she lied. It wasn't quite a lie…but it wasn't the truth either. The only thing worth noting about the Taira manor was the décor which she found a little too gaudy compared with the Kuchiki's expensive but modest tastes.

"How are your duties at the Gotei 13?"

"They are well," Rukia answered. Surely her soul reaping duties would be of little interest to a man who had long retired from shinigami-dom.

"I remember those days," Taira said wistfully, patronizing almost. "Tedious missions to the real world, purifying hollows, wrecking havoc in the training compounds and burning through paperwork by the bushel. You are in Ukitake's division, are you not?"

"I am."

"Good man, Ukitake. He achieves a lot through the help of his loyal subordinates. Which seat would you be?"

Rukia paused.

She shouldn't have felt embarrassed. She knew that Nii-sama had taken precautions for her safety, and that most nobles were afforded seats because of status. Still, she wasn't sure whether to be flattered or annoyed. If she had to choose between getting a free seat and working her way there, she'd work her heart out any day.

Instead of lowering her gaze to the table, she lifted her chin to face him. "I am unseated, actually."

She felt Nii-sama look at her.

"I see," Taira said. "And as an unseated, does this allow you to devote more time to personal issues?"

"I suppose," she said. It wasn't like she could compare the two…

Taira looked at her then, his demeanor markedly casual. "Have you thought about your plans for the future? Like, say, settling down?"

"I would like to continue to patrol, and to remain stationed near Karakura, if possible," she answered.

He gave her a pitying look. "I meant plans such as marriage."

Rukia suddenly felt wary. This was not a topic she was at all comfortable with. She didn't like discussing boys with her own best friend, much less marriage with a strange old man.

"No, I have not," she said quietly.

"A beautiful young woman such as yourself has not considered marriage?" Taira asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Well, times have changed, no doubt."

Byakuya looked tense. It wasn't anything that Taira or even his own advisor would have picked up on, but Rukia was certain she knew her brother well enough to pick up on the little signs in his body language that something wasn't right. When he was angry, his spiritual pressure became even more still, whereas most shinigami's reiatsu became fiery and unstable. His reiatsu was deadly calm, so much so that had Rukia not been acutely paying attention to him, she might not have noticed. But if anything gave him away, it was his hand. His hand was clenching his teacup, and it was white.

"There must be plenty of suitors vying for the attentions of a lovely lady such as yourself," Taira plunged on, blithely ignorant of any hard feelings at the table. "But that's all well. I am sure few, if any, of these suitors are truly worth your attention…Miss Rukia."

Byakuya banged his cup against the table. "It seems we are out of tea."

"Why indeed, it seems we are," Taira agreed, noting the empty kettle Byakuya was holding. He called for more tea, taking a sip of his sake as a woman came by with a fresh pot.

Rukia took this opportunity to change the subject. "So…which division were you in?"

Taira looked pleased at her interest. "I spent a great deal of time working in the 5th Division," he replied.

"Oh."

"But I guess you could say I ended up holding the most responsibility in the 3rd."

"Oh."

"That was long before that Ichimaru Gin came along," he said, frowning. "Of course, thanks to those traitors, there are captain vacancies all over again. It is unfortunate that Aizen would choose such selfish ambitions over loyalty to Soul Society…but then, that is the choice he makes."

Rukia stared at the butterfly crest on Taira's coat. He talked about Aizen's _choice_ as if it was nothing more than cream versus sugar. Then again, Rukia figured it was natural for her to harbor greater ill will. Getting executed for nothing tended to have that effect…

"Thank you, you too," Fudo called as he reentered the room.

Byakuya rose to leave and Rukia followed, glad to escape mostly unscathed. She'd have to thank Fudo for dragging the nasty man elsewhere for most of the evening.

"Thank you for having us," Fudo said as they left the premise.

"Not at all," Taira replied. "It was a great pleasure."

Rukia was finally heading home with only one disturbing memory of dripping tea to trifle her. She walked beside her brother, noting that the awkward walk she'd endured earlier was absent. Happy that he seemed to be in a better mood, she said, "I'm glad to be done with dinner."

Byakuya said nothing.

"I hope we will not have to see them for a long time," she said, casting a sidelong glance at him.

He still said nothing.

He was probably just not feeling talkative today, Rukia decided. Although even his talkative days were not that…talkative.

Belatedly she realized that Taira never brought up the tomes. He'd jovially discussed the news, the weather, marriage even—everything _but_ what Rukia thought he'd talk about. It seemed he did lose interest after all. Really, Nii-sama could scare off the devil if he wanted to. (Now if only he'd turn that on Ichimaru Gin.)

They reached the estate and Nii-sama left without saying good night for the third night in a row, not that Rukia was counting. She brushed off the feeling of being dismissed and headed off for bed. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she hoped she would never have to see the reviling faces of Taira or Cobra Face ever again.

The food, though…that was a different story…

* * *

Byakuya watched her disappear.

When Rukia stepped into the hall that evening, he couldn't help but notice her fresh and deceptively delicate appearance that had been tended to with such care. She was attractive. He'd never thought otherwise. But during their practice when he'd scrutinized her closely, he realized that she was truly a lady to behold. Then she walked in wearing those silks, and his attention had been hooked.

But after what he imagined in the bath, admiring even her clothed figure was a little too much for comfort. He had to look away.

Then there was Taira. Beauty was something Byakuya appreciated, and it was a virtue every man learned to appraise. But her remarkable looks grabbed the attention of that man too, and that was not something Byakuya appreciated at all. In fact, it disgusted him. More than it probably should.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter."

Fudo opened the door and inclined his head.

Byakuya closed his eyes. "It would seem your hypothesis was correct," he murmured. No one could have missed Taira's intent that evening. He wondered if Rukia herself hadn't picked up on Taira's intentions, because the man was being painfully obvious. Looking back, though, she probably hadn't. She seemed to believe they were done, judging by the way she'd spoken on their way back. He hadn't known what to say to that, so he kept his mouth closed. He didn't want to say something to dash those hopes. He didn't want to disappoint _himself_.

"It is in his own best interests," Fudo explained. He tilted his head. "You said my hypothesis was correct. Does this mean Taira asked?"

"A trivial mention, if that."

The advisor pushed his glasses up. "Denbei touched on the subject first."

Byakuya's eyes slid open and he regarded his advisor intently.

So it was no longer an idea being bounced around but a serious discussion on the other side of town. Though it was only in its beginning stages, Byakuya knew that once this proposal started to take shape, the process that would procure it would start to roll quickly.

It must have taken him too long to respond, or perhaps his reservations were obvious, for his advisor peered at him over circular lenses.

"Is there an issue, Byakuya-sama?"

Byakuya shut his eyes. What excuse could he have to object to such a proposal? People would think it odd if the Kuchiki head suddenly raised some unfounded objection. And for what? There was no reason to dissent. Not yet.

At this, Byakuya opened his eyes. Since when had he decided to dissent?

"No. There is no issue."

He was not averse to finding one though.

Fudo bid him good night and disappeared. Byakuya closed the journal he'd been writing in and replaced it on the shelf, but instead of heading toward his bedroom, he turned the opposite way, nothing but footsteps gliding beneath the moonlight until he reached that familiar place. There he opened the cupboards, kindled the candles and stood in the darkness, gazing at his wife in her dusting mahogany frame.


	6. The Broken Line

_And it's alright,_

_I'm alright,_

_I want to be okay_

_I've seen it before,_

_This eyesore_

_It's me_

* * *

When Rukia woke up the next morning, she had some vague memory of dreaming about Chappy, except this time, Chappy was Satan, the fangirls were its minions, and Kiyone was the devil behind it all.

_Come to the dark side…we have Chappy plushies!_

"Weird dreams," she muttered before rolling over and going back to sleep.

When Rukia awoke the second time, she was late, although not enough for Yuu to break down her door or for Nii-sama to be watching food grow cold at the table. She rolled out of her futon and into her clothes, noticing her phone blinking beneath the folds. After a few seconds of digging, she pulled it out. There was a message from Renji.

_Friday! You know what that means!_

Finally—an evening out where she wasn't living the fear of torture by teatime. She wrote back, telling him she would be there tonight and advising him not to drink so much. He sent back telling her to stop being a stick in the mud and that alcohol would help her wonderfully.

Gods of death were not that different from human teenagers, Rukia decided. Both held great fascination in excessive alcohol consumption and often partook in the activity with the sole goal of getting wasted. Rukia preferred a glass of umeshu plum wine with a shot of green tea, thank you very much.

She jumped into her uniform and flung open the door, nearly bowling over Yuu on her way out. Both women apologized profusely—Yuu for being late and Rukia for running her over—before she went to the dining room, pretending she wasn't two minutes late as she opened her mouth to greet her brother with a bright and cheerful, "Good morning!"

Nii-sama was nowhere to be found.

She sat down, unsure whether to wait or eat. He'd probably gone to his division early, but usually he would instruct a servant to have her commence without him. Right now there was nothing to tell except for an empty seat and his warm, waiting meal across from her.

Evidently he hadn't spoken to the servants either. He'd just upped and left.

So much for that good morning…

She gave thanks and took a spoonful of broth, but her appetite seemed to have vanished with her cheer. It was now that Byakuya was absent that Rukia realized how empty the manor felt…and how much he seemed to be avoiding her.

She tried not to feel shunned.

Rukia skipped breakfast and headed to work, intent on focusing on more pressing matters. Before she reached the office she could already hear this morning's heated discussion.

"I offered her Ichigo's underwear. She refused it for a _toy!_"

"So I'm right! It _is_ Abarai!"

"I bet she would have refused him too! And that guy probably doesn't wear underwear!"

"He doesn't."

Both Kiyone and Kotsubaki, who had each other by the lapels of their uniforms, turned to see Rukia leaning casually against the doorpost.

"Is there a reason why you would know this?" Kiyone asked testily.

"I grew up with him," Rukia said, shrugging. "And what did you expect? They didn't sell underwear to street urchins in Rukongai. Though…I guess he probably does now…hmm…"

Discussing Renji's underwear or lack thereof effectively ended the argument, because the two third seats disengaged and went back to work with embarrassed looks on their faces. _Mission accomplished_, Rukia thought smugly. No more of that Red versus Orange business in her presence. It surprised her they were still on that one, because Kiyone and Kotsubaki had the attention spans of ferrets.

Seeing no reason to linger, Rukia made to leave, but just as she turned she bumped into a presence behind her.

"Good morning!" Ukitake exclaimed. "How are you three this morning?"

Rukia jerked aside to let him in. "Never mind us—how are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good!" the white-haired captain replied, waving off their concerns with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about me—I wanted to see how you three were doing!"

"We're doing fine, sir!" Kotsubaki said, his hand hitting his forehead in a quick salute. "I'm glad to see you healthy!"

"What? I'm more glad to see you!" Kiyone exclaimed. "Healthy, that is!"

"Thank you!" Ukitake replied, beaming at them. "It's such a beautiful day, it would be a shame to spend it locked up in the infirmary." He glided to his desk, extracting a parchment from his robes. "While I'm here though, I did want to discuss a few things. Mainly, I wanted to brief everyone on the training order that was decreed."

Rukia frowned. "A training order?"

Ukitake nodded. "All thirteen divisions will be engaging in extensive, in-depth training in preparation for the Winter War."

"But…it's spring," Kiyone pointed out.

"Yes," he agreed. "It seems Aizen is a little late for his date…"

Training was beneficial, to be sure, but Rukia doubted any amount of exercise would help the average recruit in a war. The real power of the Gotei 13 lay in its thirteen—now ten—captains, and the substitute shinigami Ichigo. She doubted anyone else would be a match for Aizen.

As if reading her thoughts, Ukitake continued. "The training is also to help combat the aberrant hollows which attack using our own shinigami powers. These are the same hollows that resulted from Aizen's experiments, and there are many such deviants which continue to run amok in the world of the living."

Rukia swallowed and nodded.

"And of course, we want to promote comradeship between the divisions," Ukitake said. "Each division will be teamed up under another captain and rotated to expose everyone to different styles of combat."

"We will be working with the captains?" she asked.

"Yes. Captains and their officers are to train with their assigned shinigami, especially those frequently sent on patrols."

Rukia's heart sank.

So Nii-sama practiced with her because he'd been ordered to. Everyone was receiving a good lesson in combat these days, and Captain Kuchiki's little sister was no exception. He would do the same for the rest of his division and whoever else he was assigned to.

Duty. Nothing more, nothing less.

She'd been silly to think he would give her extra consideration.

"Oh! But we'll be working with Kyouraku!" Ukitake grinned.

"This will be great!" Kiyone crowed. "Drinks and training all around!"

Kotsubaki punched his open palm. "We should have an interdivision tournament. One huge Gotei 13 competition!"

"Hey! That was my idea!"

At that point there was nothing more to say, so Rukia extracted herself and moved toward the door. "I should get on my patrol," she whispered.

"Of course," Ukitake replied, but as she turned to leave, visible concern passed over his features. "Take care, Rukia."

She left before he could say more.

She'd been naïve to think there wasn't another reason he wanted to practice. She'd been flattered, conflicted, confused at his insistence, because giving her cloaks and helping her train wasn't within the confines of their prescribed interactions. His usual behavior was to walk past without a word, so when Nii-sama did go out of his way to help her, Rukia felt torn. It became easy to mistake his cold rationality for personal interest and fool herself into thinking it meant more than it did.

But he was Kuchiki Byakuya. Funny how after Soukyoku she was more prone to forgetting that, how even briefly stepping over the perceived boundaries of their relationship seemed to redefine everything in her mind. It was absurd—an abomination, really—to demand or even expect the man's consideration. He still passed his eyes over her whenever they passed. She still thanked him for it.

And yet…she would be lying if she said she didn't feel let down somehow.

Rukia sighed. Her thoughts were in poor taste, and Nii-sama would surely frown upon such useless sentiments. She considered stopping by Ichigo's place, but the kid was at school and she wasn't feeling it anyway. Instead she pulled out her soul phone and stared at the empty screen.

Fifteen minutes. She settled down on the roof she was on, trying not to think of cloaks or brothers or fleeting embraces as she lay in wait for the next Hollow.

* * *

"Here is this month's budget summary, Kuchiki-taichou."

Byakuya's gaze flicked up. Renji was holding a thick wad of paper toward him, looking anxious to get the heck out of the office.

"Is your work complete?"

"Yes, Taichou. The mission reports have all been checked and are en route to the 1st Division."

"You may take your leave then."

"Yes sir. Have a good evening, Taichou."

The redhead left and Byakuya was alone in his office. Outside he could hear shinigami milling about as the day shift went home and the evening shift prepared to take over. He took a moment to file away the wad Renji had given him, then picked up a stack to bring to the records department before going home.

Someone appeared to have lost control of their work because the hallway was littered with pages fluttering underfoot. A janitor would come by to clean it up, but until then Byakuya resorted to stepping over the mess as he made his way toward the filing room. He had no sooner rounded the corner than he heard someone gasp, "G-good afternoon, Kuchiki-taichou!"

Hanatarou was standing there with a broom in hand, looking at him with that prescribed mixture of fear and awe on his timorous face. He was the one sweeping the mess off the floor as laid out in his job description. Unohana's officers were often relegated these janitorial tasks, but this time it gave Byakuya pause.

"Please send Rukia-san my greetings," he said, his morose expression lightening with her name. "I haven't seen her in some time…"

"Indeed," Byakuya replied, continuing on his way.

He entered the apparently empty records department and released the barrier, making the room's contents visible. Here were records dating back to the beginnings of Soul Society, rows upon rows of documents that had been collecting dust long before Byakuya was born. His father's missions, his grandfather's, his great-grandfather's missions—generations of records kept under lock and key. He perused the shelves before slipping the files into their designated area, then sealed the premise to show an empty room once more.

Seeing the seventh seat invariably led to thoughts of Rukia. She was strong-willed and more capable than most, and during their fight he could see the determination in her eyes and the will with which she wielded her blade and the way her posture declared _fight me_. As much as Rukia seemed to believe she was weak, Byakuya appreciated her for her strength. He didn't protect her because he thought she was weak, or because he thought she couldn't handle her job. He protected Rukia because it was his desire and his pride—to keep his promise and keep her well.

He never realized how easy it would be to lose her in a way he couldn't protect her from, a way that had nothing to do with being a death god and everything to do with being the noble he'd made her. It was silly to hold onto her when she hadn't even gone anywhere, but the deal was there and Taira had talked. It made him want to spend time with her that he rarely did otherwise. Byakuya needed Rukia's company, but it wasn't often that he went around asking for it.

Then again, he helped Renji develop his abilities. Why not his own sister?

Byakuya sighed and moved toward the door. Despite his wants, he knew his decision had been made for him. He thought he had suppressed his frustration at least, but even Byakuya had to admit he used more force than necessary to whip open the door.

It was unfortunate that some fool was leaning against it.

Hanatarou tumbled through the doorway, tripping over his broom and collapsing on the floor before Byakuya. "Gah! Sorry, Kuchiki-taichou! I didn't sense you there…"

Seeing this eyesore made Byakuya indignant for Rukia. He wished she hadn't mentioned this boy in her jeremiad yesterday, because now the idea of this klutz being an officer above her hung in the air like a bad joke.

It couldn't hurt, practicing one more time. No matter what the future held, Rukia deserved the same consideration he offered his subordinates. She wanted it. _He_ wanted it. And Byakuya was not one to overlook his brotherly duties.

With that in mind, Byakuya stepped over the heap of officer and departed for home.

* * *

When Rukia got home, she was raring to go. Most Friday nights were spent out with the guys, but it had to be said that a night on the town was not as lively as it sounded. Compared with nightlife in the human world, Soul Society was dead (no pun intended), but with the rise of karaoke bars and nightclubs in modern day Tokyo it was only natural that Soul Society adopt those same standards of entertainment the way they'd picked up coffee houses and designer sunglasses and muffins slathered with mayonnaise.

Until dusk fell though, Rukia had time to kill. She spotted her magazines and tugged at the print, straining where she'd jammed them inconsiderately between a syrupy romance novel and an ancient etiquette book. _Rabu Rabu_ and _Eighteen Magazine_ peeked out at her, and she heaved at the volumes until she felt them give. Her attention hooked on the latter, which had the words "SEX ISSUE" emblazoned across the front.

Rukia frowned. She didn't remember any magazine having such a dirty word printed so glaringly on the cover. She pushed aside the others and opened the offending publication. Bombarding her were buxom babes sporting bright bikinis and beach balls and all kinds of skimpy summery accessories.

This didn't surprise her. She'd spent three months in Karakura wearing a uniform that would've given Nii-sama an epileptic fit, and a few scantily clad bottoms were hardly a matter of concern. What surprised her, though, was the table of contents. She scanned over the menagerie of suggestively themed articles and one titled _50 Best Places to Kiss a Guy_ caught her eye.

Wait, _fifty?_ She thought there were, like, five. She racked her brain for the places she'd most likely kiss a guy and came up with lips, cheeks, nose, forehead, and maybe…the top of the head? Where were the other forty-five?

She may have been ten times Ichigo's age, but Rukia's knowledge of sexual matters was sorely limited. It wasn't becoming of a noble lady to read such base reading materials, and Rukia had no need for fifty tidbits of kissing knowledge. But her curiosity was piqued and she cautiously turned the page.

You could kiss his neck. Yes, that made sense, now that she thought about it. You could kiss his ears, which sounded kind of cute. His collar bones. His shoulders. His chest…and…nipples? She frowned. Working her way down, you could even kiss his—

_Knock, knock!_

Rukia flung the magazines into her bookshelf so hard it was a wonder they didn't knock over all the _other_ magazines.

"Y-yes?"

The door slid open and there stood Nii-sama, who opened his mouth to speak before he paused to take note of her face. Either her face was doing the talking or he was still scarred from before, because to Rukia's abject horror his eyes flicked over her for a second…as if to make sure she had everything on.

"Is this an improper time?" he asked.

Rukia turned even redder.

"No, I was not…doing that…"

Byakuya stared at her.

"I mean, it's not improper!" she blurted. With the way she was babbling and the way he was staring she wondered if he thought he'd walked in on her touching herself. Worse was the fact that she _had_ been reading things of a sexual nature. Her eyes flicked to where the offending material swayed precariously on the stack behind her and Rukia felt her stomach bottom out.

"Do you wish to speak with me?" She adjusted her stance to cover the shelf.

To her surprise, it was Byakuya's turn to look discomfited. He shifted his attention to the window.

"I thought I might offer another go."

"Go?"

Byakuya looked at her. "Another practice session, like yesterday."

Rukia had to come down from her momentary embarrassment-induced brain freeze to understand what he'd said. When she did, she nearly went sparkly-eyed with spastic joy.

Really? Nii-sama would—

Oh. The training order.

She should've known. His uninspired bored expression made her wonder if he'd just invited her to a paperwork marathon rather than challenge her to a swashbuckling spar. But the captain-general ordered it, and Rukia would not be one to refuse Nii-sama his obligations.

Then the tower crashed behind her and she rocketed toward the door.

"No need to ask—now would be perfect!"

Byakuya narrowed his eyes as she pushed past him and slammed the door in his face, only stopping to wait for him at the end of the hall. He followed in bemusement, moving past her to lead them outside. She followed, idly observing his broad shoulders and lean frame until she realized she was staring. She shifted her gaze to her feet.

"I would like to work with zanjutsu again," he said, drawing his blade.

Rukia nodded and drew her own.

He moved first and she moved with him, catching his blade and shoving him away with as much force as she could muster. He allowed himself to be pushed back and she followed close, hoping to scrape an opening. At first she worried she might do something stupid and hurt him, considering she'd nearly impaled them with her clumsiness yesterday. Within a moment, though, it became clear that no amount of sword wielding would sever a thread on his uniform.

That didn't mean she wouldn't try.

She attacked with gusto, driving at him the way he'd pushed the offense yesterday. It was her turn to call the shots. He seemed content to lazily evade, his every movement fluid and effortless as he watched her with disturbing intensity. She cut at him hard, trying not to make eye contact as she tried to force him open. He was staring at her with those twilight eyes, his cool gaze fixed and unyielding.

She jumped back and rushed him again, throwing a quick left as she tried to outpace him. His blade caught hers and exposed an opening, so she twirled away and swung her blade down…only to realize it wasn't there.

Rukia looked up to see Byakuya a few feet away, holding both blades. He hadn't even used one of his blade manipulating tricks. He only used her own force against her and spun the entire weapon out of her grasp.

How embarrassing. _Show-off._

"Nice trick," she muttered as he returned her sword.

He gave her a mild shrug. "You were open."

Their fingers brushed as the zanpakutou changed hands. Rukia's face heated.

She was so embarrassed.

She gripped her sword painfully tight, though it wasn't her grip that had cost her. With a deft twist of his blade, he'd tripped up her hand and nimbly stolen the hilt in that instant of weakness. She'd seen it happen to others, though none of them had been lucky enough to get their swords back.

For some reason, it crossed her mind that Nii-sama was playing with her. Or at least, showing off for some reason.

Her indignation flared. She was not so clumsy as to lose her sword in a mock battle!

"You may want to adjust your grip," he told her lightly, and Rukia's temper flared. He didn't need to open his mouth and rub it in—he'd already made it clear he could disarm her in a wink.

Rukia was moving before she realized it. She threw a side slash combined with a low kick in hopes that she could somehow trip up her unbeatable opponent. It didn't work. He slid out of the way like he was moonwalking the courtyard and appeared at her side, though he didn't move in to attack. She took the bait, trying fruitlessly to catch him while he continued to evade and set her up again.

She slashed down from above.

He blocked it easily.

She swung in from the side.

He slid out of reach.

"You keep predicting my moves," she growled. It was like he knew where she was going to strike before she made the decision to move.

"Anticipate your opponent," he said simply. "You can read what your opponent will do and act well in time. Your smaller size will enable that."

Her smaller size was what made her suck compared to guys like Ichigo and Renji. This was to be expected when one was surrounded by powerhouse shinigami with ridiculous amounts of reiatsu and testosterone, but it still made her feel lacking by comparison. It made her feel like such a _girl_.

She launched herself at him, shoving hard to push Senbonzakura out of the way. If she couldn't catch an opening, maybe throwing herself at him with all her strength would force one open. It was probably her temper fighting at this point, but Rukia didn't care. This man was downright impossible to hit.

He must have noticed her futile shoving because he opened his stupid mouth again. "You will not win a skirmish on strength alone," he said, countering her blade easily with his greater strength. "Don't try to win on physical strength. Your strength is in your increased maneuverability due to your smaller size."

"My smaller size is what makes me weak," she snapped.

Instantly she felt worse for bringing it up. She never spoke of such things to her brother, but in the heat of their battle she'd forgotten the strict composure she always practiced around him. She sealed her lips, hoping he was above responding to her petty upsets. (It would help if Nii-sama stopped making comments about her size, but Rukia wasn't about to tell him that…)

"Size isn't everything," Byakuya said, and Rukia was mortified that he did respond—especially about size. "I should think that would be obvious."

It _was_. Nii-sama was smaller than Zaraki-taichou and even his own lieutenant, yet he could hold his own against the 11th Division captain and flat out crush Renji hands down. Size didn't matter. Strength didn't matter. It was all about reading your opponent and using their weaknesses to bring them down.

Still, she would have liked having some kind of natural upper hand against so many stronger opponents. Carrot Top wasn't exaggerating when he called her a midget. Although he did deserve a knuckling for calling her that…

They parted, and this time Rukia doubled over to catch her breath. Byakuya backed off and lowered his blade, giving her a moment to collect herself.

He didn't deserve it. Here he was, sacrificing his time to help her improve, and she was repaying him with her snarky remarks.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, feeling the sharp feelings ebb with guilt. "I don't mean to be so ill-composed."

"You are stressed," he said.

That wasn't an excuse. She didn't think she was stressed, but evidently their practice was throwing some long-held resentments into the open. The thought of Kiyone expounding why Rukia was stagnating…Renji teasing her for falling behind…Taira making assumptions about her position…then Ichigo getting caught in the Winter War. Maybe she _was_ stressed. But if anyone had the right to feel stressed, it was him. But he seemed to understand her need for space and didn't press the matter.

After a moment, she straightened.

"Do you wish to continue?" he asked quietly.

Rukia nodded.

Byakuya returned to a ready stance. This time he waited for Rukia to move first.

She charged. Even if she couldn't match him, she wanted to make the best of what he was offering. She didn't deserve his help, training order or not; she didn't deserve his second glance, let alone his prolonged attention. But he was giving her both, and that alien behavior combined with the intensity of his gaze made the back of her neck prickle.

She didn't realize she'd tensed so much, but when she swung at him her grip was so tight that the force of it seared painfully from her wrist to her shoulder. She gasped and landed a few feet away to clutch at the strained muscles. Then a flash of reiatsu breezed against her and Rukia felt herself freeze.

"Breathe, Rukia," he reminded her.

Forgetting to breathe in a fight was like forgetting to shut your eyes while sleeping. Sometimes the stress of battle caused less experienced wielders to forget basics like breathing, which in turn led to poor reactions and slow thinking. But even when she started, Rukia never had difficulty breathing. She didn't even realize she was holding her breath until he mentioned it.

The reason she stopped breathing was because he was so close.

His chest bumped her back and her heart skipped a beat, his spiritual pressure so close it virtually overlapped her own. He was standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating behind her, feel his very reiryoku brushing hers. The sheer proximity of this distant, indecipherable man standing so close sent a shiver down her spine.

"Breathe," he murmured again, right beside the shell of her ear.

The way he said it made it harder to breathe.

"Let me see," he said, that dulcet tone reverberating so close she could hear his lips touch as he spoke. His hand moved down and before she could react, Byakuya's hand was on hers.

Rukia's breath hitched. She flinched, shocked by the feel of her brother's hand on her own. The touch of his powerful reiatsu combined with his forbidding persona felt nothing short of electric. His fingers wrapped around hers, and Rukia could think of nothing but the strange new sensation of Nii-sama's warm skin moving over hers.

Warm. She expected cold, careless, passing without thought. But it was warm, and Rukia found she was paying more attention to the feel of his hands than what he was showing her with those hands.

"Your hands are too tense," he said somewhere above her, his long fingers coaxing hers to loosen. "Support the sword, don't grip it."

She wasn't really listening. She let him mold her however he pleased, unaware of anything but the strange heat of his hands.

Somehow, that touch alone felt more intimate than yesterday's embrace.

Eventually he pulled away and Rukia's hands suddenly felt cold. He left her like a breeze and Rukia stared as he lifted his blade like nothing happened.

"Are you going to move?" he asked.

Rukia nodded dumbly.

She ran at him, aware that she was virtually throwing herself at her brother. Her proximity to this man was nothing short of suffocating. Her reiryoku brushed his, and despite the sharp protest her muscles gave off, she was left with only a tingling sensation deep in her stomach that had nothing to do with the cold air around them. It was amazing how one thing he did could throw off her focus completely.

When she slashed, it showed. She hadn't loosened up in the slightest—in fact his outlandish behavior was making her tenser—and when she lashed out, she missed. Byakuya knocked her blade away, and this time she really did lose her grip.

Sode no Shirayuki went skidding across the dirt, spinning haphazardly until it clattered against a rock. Rukia stood rooted in shock, staring at the fallen blade as if it had willingly jumped out of her hands. Byakuya's gaze followed the zanpakutou until it came to a rest, and then he looked at Rukia, a clear question on his face.

"What?" she barked. "I meant to do that."

It was a lie and a terrible one, but it was better than admitting a truth she couldn't admit to herself. The truth that he was affecting her this much, unsettling her like this…turning her butterfingered by one meaningless touch. Ignoring the burn of his eyes on her back, Rukia loped over and picked up the zanpakutou. Immediately she felt Sode no Shirayuki's icy ire at being so blatantly mishandled.

_What do you think you are doing?_

_Practicing._

_You threw me in the dirt!_

She ignored her zanpakutou's protests, turning to raise the pale blade before her. Only, Nii-sama wasn't there.

"Rukia…you need to relax."

She stiffened.

He was beside her again. This time when Byakuya reached for her, Rukia tightened her hands.

On _purpose._

He must not have noticed, because once more he tried to coax her fingers from the hilt to no avail. "Loosen up, Rukia," he murmured, his voice firm but his hands terribly gentle. "You will err if you do not loosen up."

Rukia nodded, although she was too traumatized by her own reaction to pay much heed to his warnings. All she could think of was the baffling warmth of this cold man's palms and the terrible, terrible fact that she'd purposely disobeyed him.

But despite every sensation this confounding situation produced, there was only one question running though Rukia's mind.

_Why?_

Okay, yes, she knew perfectly well why. To adjust her grip. To show her her error. There was no reason for Nii-sama to hold her hand except to adjust her grip and maybe slap her on the wrist for her inappropriate behavior. She shouldn't have lost her blade in the scuffle, nor intentionally tensed up in hopes he'd touch her again. But it didn't explain why they were still standing hand in hand, or why it was _Nii-sama_ who was holding her hand.

Even if the captain-general ordered it, he didn't have to touch her. He didn't have to hold her the way he was now.

She stared at where they met, her gaze roaming from the fingerless tekkou gloves to what little showed of his forearm. Her gaze traveled up until she met his unreadable grey gaze, searching for an answer.

* * *

Byakuya stared back.

When he visited his wife's memorial last night, he decided that the best course of action would be to give Rukia distance. Having distracting thoughts meant that he needed space, and Byakuya reasoned that if he could stay far enough for long enough, those unsightly thoughts would fade. It made sense, but it was difficult to employ when he felt threatened by the issue with Taira.

That, however, was why he avoided her at breakfast. He felt threatened by the issue with Taira.

It was Byakuya's responsibility to do what was best for the family, and that meant making sacrifices. Letting something as inane as personal attachment get in the way of duty only exposed his weak resolve, and as family head, this was not permissible. He had to close himself off from Rukia because family ties meant nothing under the law. Yet at the same time, there was his promise. There was _Rukia_. And the more Byakuya was confronted with it, the more he realized that she meant more to him than anyone in existence.

What was he to do? Follow family ordinances and submit to the law? Or train with her despite the upcoming proposals? She desired the training as much as Renji, and despite Byakuya's lack of involvement it had always been his desire to see her improve. But deliberately training Rukia in the face of upcoming nuptials was like taking Taira's proposal and slapping him in the face with it. (Not a bad thought, really, but that was beside the point.)

He dropped her hand and moved away, feeling his scarf flutter with the sudden movement. When he faced her again, she was looking away. He sheathed Senbonzakura. "That should be enough for today."

Rukia nodded.

He started to walk away when Rukia spoke.

"Renji invited me for dinner."

Byakuya glanced at the outer wall in distaste.

"I see."

He desperately wanted to know if it would just be Renji or if there would be others. It wasn't his business, but Byakuya didn't like the idea of Rukia going out with another man without an escort, even if it was his own bumbling lieutenant. But Byakuya didn't want to ask outright, so he settled for phrasing the inquiry as nonchalantly as possible.

"Where will the two of you be dining?"

"Oh—it won't just be us," Rukia said, unwittingly answering his question. "Kotetsu Kiyone, Matsumoto-fukutaichou, Hisagi-fukutaichou, Kira-fukutaichou…we'll be at the new karaoke bar in the entertainment district." She paused. "Do you want to come?"

"No." He didn't even consider it.

"Okay," she said, and to Byakuya's surprise she sounded vaguely disappointed. "If you change your mind…we'll be at the Soul Blues…"

Rukia drifted off, and having successfully gleaned the desired information, Byakuya relaxed. He started toward the house, but when Rukia didn't follow, he stopped and looked back.

She smiled. It was an affected smile, cautious—not like the sparkling gaze of adoration he'd received from her yesterday.

"Thank you, Nii-sama. Really…I appreciate it."

Then she headed in the opposite direction.

Only as he watched her disappear did Byakuya realize that his concern over her purported date had been purely selfish. His first thought should have been: The Taira would not approve. Instead, it bothered _him_. It was silly, but Byakuya almost wanted to go to their stupid outing, just so he could watch over her.

For safety. To ascertain her safety.

Byakuya told himself that was all it was.

* * *

Rukia told her brother 'dinner'. What she meant to say was 'getting wasted'.

Scratch whatever she'd said about Soul Society nightlife being boring. It was exactly like the real world or maybe worse, since gods of death didn't suffer the same effects as their human counterparts and could go to greater lengths of extreme bingeing. At least, it was similar to what little she'd seen in the human world. Ichigo was underage and didn't go round to these sorts of establishments yet, but Rukia had been around long enough to know that things got wild whenever alcohol involved. She should have expected the same here.

Still, she thought the respected men of Soul Society would be more civil. First Division Lieutenant Sasakibe Chojirou was hammered and making embarrassing remarks to half the female population. The 8th Division captain was doing his usual, Kira and Hisagi were gathered around the karaoke pit, and Iba and Madarame were on top of the pool table dueling with the pool cues.

_So this is how the pillars of the Gotei 13 behave on their nights off,_ Rukia mused. It would have been nice if Izuru knew how to sing, but Rukia found she wasn't averse to enjoying the death god's version of pub crawling. An activity which Nii-sama apparently had little interest in.

She knew he wouldn't come, but she wanted to at least extend the invite. He probably thought she was being stupid, because only silly imoutos invited their noble brothers to go to some common bar for a drink.

Now she felt sillier for glancing at the doorway every few minutes with some distant hope that maybe he would come. Yet at the same time, she hoped he didn't. What would she even say? _Fancy meeting you here, Nii-sama! Care to join me for drinks and karaoke?_

In all honesty, he'd probably solve the awkward problem himself. He'd just bring his paperwork and get a head start on tomorrow's reports.

"You made it!" Renji exclaimed, clapping her shoulder with one hand while a bottle tipped dangerously in the other. "About time, Shorty Pants!"

Rukia smirked. "Nice to see you too, Mr. Funny Tattooed Eyebrows."

Veins cracked. "I hate it when you call me that."

"You love it when I call you that." She took a seat and turned toward the bartender. "Umeshu with green tea please."

"Of course, Kuchiki-sama."

Her brow twitched at the honorific, but she said nothing. Renji leaned on the counter beside her, and despite the bottle tipping in his hand he ordered another. "Imo-jouchu for me, thanks."

They were served their drinks, and Rukia took a sip of her favorite alcoholic beverage—a delicious, slightly fruity concoction of plum wine and tea. No sooner had the liquid touched her tongue than the boisterous blonde she'd been expecting came tumbling in with two other girls in tow.

"Fancy meeting you here, Rukia!" Kiyone exclaimed. "Care to join me for drinks and karaoke?"

"I'm not sure about karaoke, as Kira and Hisagi seem to have staked a claim, but I'd love to on the drinks," Rukia said.

"Great! I'm surprised you're here, though. I thought you'd be busy with another dinner."

"The dinners are over." Rukia smiled. "Thankfully."

"Good. I was beginning to think you abandoned us."

"Kiyone, there were two dinners."

"That's two too many."

Renji propped his elbows up on the counter. "Like you should be talking," he told Kiyone. "Every time Ichigo and I stop by to drag Rukia along with us, you have your stupid muffin dates."

"We had one!" Kiyone barked.

"That's one too many," Renji drawled.

"Well I'm here now, and there's no dinner or muffins or anything but alcohol, so let's not fight over me," Rukia said.

Kiyone hiccupped. "Right. So! I stopped by the 12th Division today and I'm proud to say that I have the perfect solution for all our boy troubles."

Rukia smirked. "And what might that be?"

Kiyone ushered Renji away, twittering something about top secret missions. Once he was a few feet away, she extracted a small metallic-looking object from her sleeve.

"The ultimate—_hic!_—weapon."

In her hand was a small silver box-shaped item with a black circle on the front, the perfect size to be carried unnoticed in the sleeve of a shihakusho. Rukia stared at it for a moment before realizing what it was.

"Oh. That."

"Oh? That?" Kiyone repeated incredulously. "This is the answer to all our fangirl dreams! The method by which we shall obtain our photos and you shall obtain your Chappy!"

"All _your_ fangirl dreams," Rukia corrected. "And I told you, I am not aiding you in your mission. I only want Chappy, and I am only doing what is required for Chappy. My part revolves around one single…target."

"Bah. At least you've come to see the sights!"

Rukia smiled. "I'm not here to scope out boys either."

"That's too bad," Ise Nanao said ominously from behind.

Rukia turned to find the entire SWA in various stages of targeting, capturing, photographing, or attempting to photograph their targets. Either this entire outing had been organized by the SWA or they were doing a damn good job of pulling off their mission in broad nightlight as they raided the drunken pub to get the material they needed. Matsumoto was their greatest asset, charming men into removing all but their loincloths. Unfortunately for them, she usually accomplished the last bit herself.

Evidently this was one of those nights, because Kiyone hiccupped loudly before addressing the entire establishment.

"Gentlemen, it is time for a pants-off dance-off."

It was a good thing Nii-sama didn't come.

The bar burst into an uproar. "We say you ladies should have a pants-off dance-off!" Iba-fukutaichou shouted, while men of the Shinigami Men's Association fought and wrestled for the cameras in hopes of turning the photographic weapons on their accosters.

"Now be good, boys!" Matsumoto chirped, face flushed as she juggled sake and a Chappy-shaped camera. She held up the camera and smiled her most dazzling smile, making half the drunks in the bar swoon. "This is for the Shinigami Women's Association. Men and your loincloths, beware!"

Ise nearly had a stroke. "How many times do I have to say this? No nudes! I don't want to have to censor the art we put up! And—wait—stop it Matsumoto—_we're in public!_"

Matsumoto paid her no mind as she reached for waistbands of a very drunk Kira and Hisagi.

Rukia ignored what was quickly turning into a bar brawl between the rival associations and rose, spotting one of her favorite foods gliding on the giant sushi bar. She settled down at the counter, waiting to snag some of her favorite kappamaki.

"I am glad you decided to help us after all," Ise said. It seemed she'd given up trying to stop Matsumoto because she took a seat beside Rukia while the blonde snapped pictures behind her.

"This is a difficult mission, but I am pleased that you have decided to accept," the 8th Division lieutenant continued. "I understand it is a great sacrifice on your part, so on the behalf of women and female fans everywhere, thank you and good luck. Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

Was Rukia going to die on this mission to photograph Nii-sama? She didn't need to act so serious…

"Best wishes, Kuchiki-san. We look forward to seeing the photos of our beloved Kuchiki-taichou."

Was that a menacing little fangirl glint when she pushed up her glasses?

Rukia shuddered as the lieutenant walked away. The SWA could be so scary. No wonder men were always running away.

Worse, though, was what Rukia had been reminded of.

_Nii-sama, for Chappy._

_Nii-sama, for the fangirls._

Her brother's handsome face popped into her head, and she despaired to see those pale, pretty lips quirk down in disapproval.

_Rukia…I cannot believe you would betray your poor Nii-sama to these fangirl demons and step on my virtue with this shameless behavior. FML._

Okay, so Nii-sama wouldn't say that, but Rukia's fear of him finding out was too great to ignore. Her only viable comeback was: _You owe me. _But Rukia didn't want to think about that either lest she be reminded, so she ignored the thought in favor of watching sushi roll by.

She sipped her wine and without thinking she glanced at her hands. She remembered the feel of his hand on hers, strong and warm as he adjusted hers to her complete and utter stupefaction. Then she remembered the way she tightened her hands…hoping he would do it again.

Distraught, Rukia glanced away in time to watch that delicious cucumber roll drift out of reach.

_Damn it._

Having nothing to do but wait for it to return, she dropped her gaze to her hands again.

It was easier when he acted like she wasn't there. Even if she desired his acknowledgement, it was better when he didn't acknowledge her at all. At least then everything was defined and their relationship made sense and she wasn't forced to question his motives or doubt her own beliefs.

As much as she could explain away practice sessions or desert cloaks or even blushing when explaining that cloak to Ichigo…she couldn't explain his hand on hers. After hearing about the training order she'd felt some peace of mind, knowing nothing had shifted in the delicate balance of their relationship. Then, as soon as she'd found solace in that fact, Nii-sama went and did something else to confuse her.

"This place must be infinitely boring if you're more interested in your hands than the karaoke set."

Rukia looked up. The lieutenant of the 10th Division was standing above her, watching her idly as she nursed her drink. Apparently she'd finished her business with Hisagi and Kira and was looking for more victims to prey upon. Luckily Rukia wasn't in that category.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou…"

The voluptuous blonde shook her head, smiling. "Formalities in a bar? It's cute, but don't be so formal."

"Ah…my sincere apologies, Matsumoto-san."

"Like I said, don't be so formal."

The woman plopped onto the barstool beside her, ordering a glass of shochu and water despite the bottle in her hand. She took a swig of that bottle before turning to Rukia.

"So, what's eating you?"

"Nothing."

Either she was being painfully obvious or the blonde was more intuitive than she looked, because she eyed Rukia before casually picking at the label on her bottle.

"You looked really interested in your hands a moment ago," she said leadingly, "despite the fact that we're in the loudest karaoke bar in town. Are you sure it's nothing?"

Rukia sighed. She couldn't explain that she'd been wondering why her _face_ felt warm instead of her hands when Nii-sama had held them earlier. She tucked her hands under the counter, afraid they would somehow give her away. "I was just thinking about things," she muttered.

Matsumoto tilted her head. "Let me see your hands."

Rukia's heart lurched. But there was no way the woman could know her thoughts short of being a psychic, and to refuse her that simple request would only look suspicious. Hesitantly she slid out her hands and held them up for examination. Matsumoto turned them over to observe her palms.

"A long life line, good health," Matsumoto said. "You're going to have six kids and a good husband and a pet rabbit and a happy little family—well, maybe not _little,_ haha—but all in all it looks good for you. You're cautious in your relationships so you like to take things slow…meaning you test the waters first, so to speak. You have a single marriage line and the crease is especially deep, so you'll have an intimate physical and spiritual union with whoever it is you'll end up marrying."

Rukia stared at her. "You know how to palm read?"

Matsumoto shook her head, smiling. "Just one of those things you pick up when you have nothing else to do." She glanced down at Rukia's palm and tapped her chin anxiously. "Your love life looks tumultuous though. It's broken."

"What's broken?"

"Your heart line."

That made no sense. She wasn't sure how that meshed with what Matsumoto just said about having a great relationship, but then she didn't understand this pseudoscience at all, so she kept her mouth shut.

"A broken heart line means emotional trauma," Matsumoto explained. "You're probably going to feel hurt or lost along the way."

Rukia almost rolled her eyes. _Well that sounds just peachy._

"You're rational," Matsumoto continued, tracing higher with one elegant finger. "You follow your head at the expense of your feelings, but…" She smiled wistfully. "You don't always have to hold your head above your heart."

There was something about the way Matsumoto spoke that revealed something of her own heart, and though Rukia didn't know what it was, she didn't feel privy to this woman's innermost hurts. She looked away.

Then Matsumoto took Rukia's chin and turned her forward, beaming that infectious smile. "Neh, don't look so worried! If you persevere, things will work out. Drinky drink?"

Her gaze flicked to the bottle Matsumoto was offering. "Thank you, but I'll pass."

Matsumoto shrugged, then tipped back and imbibed. With the amount of alcohol she consumed it was a wonder she wasn't on the floor, but she chugged on, proving her godlike tolerance and convincing Rukia that she could floor half the men in the bar before she was brought to one knee. Rukia made note to inform Kiyone that she'd won another bet, and after the long swig Matsumoto banged the bottle onto the countertop with a dull thud.

"In Rukongai, the future was all we had. No past, no present, no life or even death. We only had what we held in our hands…which was nothing except the hope for a better future, and if you were lucky, a dried persimmon." She smiled. "I'm sure you thought the same."

They never discussed their common past, but tonight Rukia understood. They experienced the same filthy streets, the same torn rags, the same harsh existence surviving in the slums. Their only hope _had_ been in the palms of their hands—the desperate, singular hope for a future.

It surprised her that it was in this smoky, noise-polluted bar where the biggest battle of the century raged behind them that she found the one person who understood. This woman who was gossip queen and slacker and 10th Division's resident alcoholic, who would undo buttons to grab Ichigo's attention and who probably knew a lot more than five places to kiss a guy. This woman understood what it was like to feel unanchored in the confusing welter of your own emotions…to be confused by an indecipherable man who could pick you up and save your life, then walk away forever without any explanation.

This woman…knew exactly how Rukia felt.

She bowed her head, unable to put into words the overwhelming gratitude she felt. "Thank you so much, Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

Rangiku smiled. "Tch, don't mention it. And stop being so formal."

The woman gave her a departing grin and wandered back to where the party was.

She'd never believed in any redeeming qualities in the art of chiromancy, the idea that one's fate was written in the palm of their hand. Six kids and a pet rabbit sounded like a load of baloney, and marriage? Rukia didn't even have a candidate. But it struck her that she'd just had the most profound conversation she never knew the lieutenant was capable of, and despite Rukia's rationalizing mind…it couldn't hurt to look for a deeper meaning in something so mundane.

It had saved one person from the despairs of Rukongai, at least.

She looked at her hand, not even trying to make sense of what Matsumoto had seen. She couldn't see anything in those tiny creases that might offer some advice. The only thing she could see was her brother's hand on hers. Her distant, indecipherable brother who never really looked at her, who shouldn't have acknowledged her, who by one simple touch made her hands tingle and stomach flutter.

Slowly, Rukia closed her hand.

Matsumoto was wrong. Rukia didn't have a love life. When she wanted a love life, she settled down with a copy of _Rabu Rabu_ or one of those Shakespearean dramas Ichigo lent her. It kept her heart closed and mind occupied and prevented her from doing stupid things with stupid people who didn't deserve her stupid affections.

_Sympathy, friendship, love…such feelings aren't necessary for shinigami._

Yet despite that rule of thumb that all shinigami were to abide by, she was reminded of a man who'd held up his own hand to tell her that protecting those feelings was, in fact, the true duty of a shinigami.

_People fight for two different reasons. To protect one's life, and to protect one's pride. That's Ukitake-taichou's policy. But you know what, Kuchiki? I think, in the end, those two types of people are fighting for the same thing._

What was that?

_It's heart._

Rukia hadn't been impressed, being quick to scoff at his beliefs and call them corny, to which the man answered with no small amount of fuming and kicking things and general insulted-male drama. Then he proceeded to explain his views: That the heart of a shinigami was not within the chest of a spirit, but rather in the hands of those souls who worked as one.

That had confused her even more.

_Where do you think the heart lies? _he'd asked.

Funny. She'd been told that gods of death didn't have need for a heart.

Kaien just laughed and mussed her hair like always.

_You see, I think the 'heart' lies right here, _he'd said, holding up his fist while Rukia glanced at her own hands in confusion. _Every time you and I communicate, the 'heart' is born. The 'heart' doesn't exist within one's body. Every time you think, every time you act…the 'heart' is born right there._

Rukia looked at her hand, not the creases that lined her palm, but her hand as a whole. All she could think of was Nii-sama's hand gently trapping her own.

Hands…hearts…and somewhere, a broken line.

Rukia shifted to sit on her hands. She resolved not to look at, think about, philosophize on, or foretell futures from her hands any longer. She'd been distracted lately, first by Nii-sama's avoidance and then his unexplained proximity, and then by hands and hands and more hands and hearts, and hearts exposed where they shouldn't be…and hearts where they shouldn't be at all.

She didn't want to think about this. She wanted to drink her wine and get her Chappy and eat cucumber sushi and maybe drink some more to drown her muddled worries, and then pass out somewhere where Nii-sama wouldn't be forced to drag her to bed, where he wouldn't be forced to look at her or acknowledge her or touch her like she meant something. She quelled the thought, and hungry, Rukia lifted her gaze to where the sushi continued to pass.

Except now she watched the kappamaki roll by while she sat pinning her hands.

…_Damn it._

She wished her mentor was still alive because right now Rukia felt more lost than she had in half a century. All she knew was that if Nii-sama's sudden avoidance hadn't confused her enough, the way he touched her confused her even more, and Rukia was caught in a tangle of feelings she couldn't even begin to understand.


End file.
